FREE LOVE LETTERS

Author: Paul Ransom

  • Love letter # 642

    —

    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

    —

    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

    —

    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

    —

    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…

  • Love letter # 413

    —

    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

    —

    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

    —

    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

    —

    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

    —

    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

    —

    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…