FREE LOVE LETTERS

Author: Paul Ransom

  • Love letter # 503

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    There is much I have forgotten, details yielded to time and other fogs. But the body holds traces, relives the sensation. The wonder of your arrival, like the beating of butterfly wings. The rush of falling, as though desire, coded in flutters, remains, with the distortions of ordinary grind edited out and the purity of…

  • Love letter # 485

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Though I once yearned for the summer, summer made its way. Now that I pray for the summer to stay, autumn is merely a cool breath away. My desire is what desire is; the sound of itself. Yet you emerged from the silence; and into the quiet – and though my longing is sustained, you…

  • Love letter # 494

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Of course I think about touching. You must know this already. I try to hide it, but desire has a way of showing through. I see your eyes searching me, prising apart my fragile reserve. Questioning my eroding resolve. Yet, I am duly confined to my role as watcher. Admirer. My love shall barely breath…

  • Love letter # 563

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Even now, you reveal me to myself. As though, across time and distance, your voice in the form of echoes, magic in the guise of miasma. I came out of the meeting late, dusk settling. Walked along the street of our past. The places we drank. Kissed. Fought. The short cuts we took back to…

  • Love letter # 437

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    It is hard to admit, let alone say, but yes, I do ponder the possibility of us. What’s more, we have kissed behind my eyes. In my thoughts I have heard you say clearly what I have been reading between the lines. In fantasy we have danced. And today, waking from the dream of you,…

  • Love letter # 558

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Perhaps if we had not felt the immensity, we too would have sought the surety of anchors. Reduced ourselves to the bareness of names. Huddled beneath the aegis of myth. Knelt in the cathedral of tribes. Yet it was the land that we loved, not the king who laid claim. The fragile rhythm of hearts,…

  • For the anniversary of stars

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    A glance at the screen, a date in the corner; and just like that: thirty years. The gap between waking and dreaming. A space hollowed of promises. The tender hook, still fast. Timeless. Remember how it rained that afternoon. How the evening was soft; lambent as the rings changed hands and the waterfall sang nearby.…

  • Love letter # 493

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    It’s true. I watch them passing. Firm, young, glorious. Svelte bodies, lustrous skin. Strong and lithe and full of fire. Acme of desire. Fleeting angels in our midst. Not stopping to notice us. I look but do not follow. Burn, yet remain. Dream it all – in the space of their transit – yet wake…

  • Love letter # 713

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    You were a white blonde child; now you’re honey brown. You were a lissome youth; now your lightness takes a different form. I cannot hold you as you were – except in the trap of memory – for you are not the angel of yore, you are the fractured and complex beauty of now. If…

  • Love letter # 492

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    How did I know I would find you? I did not. I merely walked. I did not call out in expectation of your response; I simply raised my voice. I did not sing for the beauty of your dance, but for the liberty of music. This house was not made as a temple, neither as…