FREE LOVE LETTERS

Author: Paul Ransom

  • Love letter # 413

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    It’s like one of those Phil Spector, Wall of Sound, girl group songs. Rapturous, romantic, almost innocent. Such an intense swoon. An immense wave of light headed ecstasy. Heart like those crashing drums, blood buzzed with overwhelming electricity. I could dance all night. Maybe forever. As long as you are near. So yeah – that’s…

  • Love letter # 445

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    It required an act of surrender to be free. It was from the darkness that the light was seen. It took the zero to make an infinity. It took the many to mould a unity. Only in the Other did the I unfold. For in your voice is my story told.

  • Love letter # 535

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    This is how I feel in the realm of your beauty: Liquid, vulnerable, naked, hungry, alone. For you are beautiful and I am not. Next to you, I am a million miles from your touch. In your wake, I walk the desert of your affection, and with each word the silence thickens. Yet none of…

  • Love letter # 412

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    I write this to have it said. To give it the shape of language. Tomorrow, I may think it mere venting – but today I am impelled. Emboldened by your absence; or rather, by the ways in which I have lately been reminded of you. The circles around me, the orbiting others, the noises they…

  • Love letter # 599

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    It was just one kiss. Polite, not passionate. Yet your lips lingered a little longer – or did they? Now I can’t tell; though I do hope. My pulse is quickened, my judgement blurred. I’d play it cool if I had any left. Instead, what I have is the memory of taste. The echo of…

  • Love letter # 355

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Now, with all these years between, it finally becomes clear why I was drawn to you and why my actions were misguided. You had a fire in you; and so did I. But I tried to smother mine. Was it because I thought that’s what you wanted – an anchor of sorts? A counterpoint? Someone…

  • If we might still mend it with kindness

    If we might still mend it with kindness

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Already, it has begun. The slow uncoupling. The incremental shifting of orbit. The quiet cellaring of doubts – earmarked as likely ammunition. Yet I wonder if we might still mend it with kindness. For not so long ago we were a kind, as though we had reached across the unbridgeable gulf between souls and seen…

  • Love letter # 934

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Nothing is permanent; not even the arc of your love. I realise that the gap between elation and despair is the downcast eye – a slip of the tongue, a new arrival, a chorus in a minor key. Perhaps just…hesitation. Dust, once stirred, will never settle back exactly. Even the stars are shifting. I look…

  • Love letter # 495

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    What I really wanted to say to you on your birthday was that your advent showed me that I could be more than merely self-obsessed and that I did indeed have a capacity for kindness and generosity, and that I too could make a difference in someone’s life. I simply cannot thank you enough for…

  • Love letter # 443

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    How easy it would be for us not to bother. We could be that couple. We could lapse into blaming one another, or else let the fancy roam. The world is full of younger, seemingly sexier alternatives – charming strangers at parties, the new face at work, the cute student at the checkout. Not to…