FREE LOVE LETTERS

Author: Paul Ransom

  • Love letter # 174

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Why? Is there a more useless question?

  • Love letter # 20

    —

    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

    —

    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

    —

    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

    —

    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

    —

    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

    —

    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…

  • Love letter # 118

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    It was your kindness that drew me to you. So clear, so simple, stark against the scrawl of everything else. In a world loud with selfish empire, with crude grasping and mean denial, scratched with the arbitrary markings of tribal assertion, it was your gentle gift. Offered without fuss. Untrumpeted. In this ugly squall of…

  • Letter to a first love, long lost

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    In the cool exhalation of winter, when the first sighs of spring soften the evening, it is still you, walking with me in the slanted sunlight. My body remembers the season and the blossoms recall you with their perfume. At each inhalation, you approach, until I can feel your warmth. Present. Never having left. Years…

  • Love letter # 270

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    In the soft promise of your arrival, I am gently folding. Later, when the time for your departure nears, I shall yield once more.