FREE LOVE LETTERS

Author: Paul Ransom

  • Love letter # 582

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Time heals, so they say, yet it does not erase. For it is hard to delete an absence. Much has changed since we parted ways but the valley you carved has remained. It traces the frontier in my life. Before/after. In truth, I never got over it. Yes, I moved on, I functioned, and I…

  • Love letter # 611

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    There is a break-up arithmetic. It is an accounting of sorrows, a logging of bruises. As though the tagging of evidence might alter anything. As if the apportioning of blame can dam the flow of blood. This is the useless math of injustice and validation. The numbers say almost nothing about the skin in the…

  • Love letter # 583

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Today it hurts. Feels like a spiral, something on repeat. As though fated. A punishment. But you can let it go. All of it. Imagine. There is a wave. Open out to it. Let it wash through. Strip away the layers. And it will. And when all the old rooms have been cleared, you will…

  • Love letter # 174

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Why? Is there a more useless question?

  • Love letter # 20

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    It goes like this: notice, ache, look away. Remind myself: this is not going anywhere. The years, scarcely a greater distance. Perhaps you have not seen me look at you; but I have registered the way you never see me. Why would you? Yours is the entire world, all its heavenly gifts. Mine is the…

  • There will be no distance

    There will be no distance

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    What if I have no energy left for this? What if it’s all cost, and no reward? Shall I just keep trying and trying and hoping for a different result? I know I am not perfect. I could have taken a different approach. Maybe I am too impatient. Maybe my expectations, which seem so small…

  • Love letter # 633

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    In a way, this is useless. Only words. A performative version of reality. Post. The true ground is more textured. Soil more complex. Process convoluted, ongoing. There is no pinning down, no containing with cute phraseology. My heart is not a meme. How I feel about you – us – is not a storybook. At…

  • Love letter # 190

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Wasn’t always like this, was it? Used to feel effortless. Natural. We always found a way. Now we get lost. Fight over the map. Go round in circles. Spiral. Could it be we over-reached? Set a bar so high we were bound to stumble? In all likelihood we will never find out. Instead, we will…

  • Love letter # 538

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    It was not deliberate – but it was careless. There was no cruelty intended – but I was thoughtless. Selfish. If I was confused, unsure, so too was I churlish. Acting out. No matter…the house is now burnt. A storm has raged its way across our home, such that it has become a shell. Walls…

  • Love letter # 674

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    If I know anything, it is this: I am. But also, miraculously, I know that you know. Upon the brilliance of stars, I swear I could dissolve at the thought of this. Here come the tears. They are the euphoria of letting go. One day I will let it flood. Until then, the only thing…