FREE LOVE LETTERS

Author: Paul Ransom

  • Love letter # 565

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Though I have stood next to you, heard your private words, tended to the wounds you keep hidden, still I remain at the distance of mystery. Still you are the secret kept. If I have sought to love you, you have been as sand. Impermanent. Shifting at the behest of breath. And whenever I have…

  • They are all you

    They are all you

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Ever since I met you, I have always known. It is not that they are shadows, nor you their ghostly forebear. Neither do they replace you, or simply stand in your place. They shall not follow in your wake, nor wear thy lovely crown. The shiver of your love shall not be stilled in their…

  • Love letter # 421

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    You know he ignores you, don’t you? I see the way you try to get his attention, or hold it, and he diverts to his phone or gives the minimum response. You smile, your eyes full of tenderness, your lovely form inclined towards him; but he knows he doesn’t have to try. Or thinks he…

  • Love letter # 528

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    What if I love you too much? What if I lose it? This is what worries me. It’s not like I haven’t nearly gone mad before. Maybe I want it too keenly for my own good. So much that it threatens to leave everything else in ruins. The glorious wave that, in its inexorable motion,…

  • Love letter # 699

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    In you, astonishment. The miracle of the other mirroring self. More than that, making self. You, the architect of me. The space that defines the point. The eternal, coalescing into now. The beauty of the particular, and the awe of the universal. As though I knew you all along. Call and response. As if the…

  • Love letter # 422

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Yes, I hear them. I know what they’re saying. I can even understand why they say it. But they don’t know. They have mistaken appearance for substance. Their judgement is coded in the beliefs they have about themselves. Their cynic’s wisdom is a cleverly clothed self-loathing. So do not worry, I hear them but do…

  • Love letter # 642

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    You are doubtless wondering why I haven’t made a move on you. Perhaps you think I am not interested, or that I don’t ‘bat for your team’. Neither is true. The fact is, I have dreamt of your touch for months now. I have imagined all manner of scenarios in which we are lovers. More…

  • Love letter # 446

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    I try not to look, even though I can; though you make it easy. Are you unconscious of your beauty; aware that the sight of you is unravelling? Is this display of skin and form and flickering gesture an act, a game, or is it simply you? Am I meant to respond, to be nearly…

  • Love letter # 427

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    A stray thought… Years stretch out, a yawn of time. You were eighteen then – and I was a fool. Together, we had little or no idea about anything. And yet, the soft landing of tenderness – like tentative footprints in powdery sand – has left its dusted outline. The shape of desire. Of youthful…

  • Love letter # 354

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Time may well erode my memory of you but not how I remember. I have already forgotten the sound of your voice, the curve of your waist, the scent of your freshly washed skin. In truth, I can barely picture you now, let alone recall the soft weight of your touch. The factual traces are…