Author: Paul Ransom

  • If we might still mend it with kindness

    If we might still mend it with kindness

    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

    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

    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

    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…

  • Love letter # 416

    Love letter # 416

    Hello there. In case you’re wondering, we already know one another by sight. We go the same beach in the evenings, especially at this time of year. I’m the guy who sits on the sand and gazes out across the bay. Your dog often comes up to say hi. And then you walk by and…

  • Love letter # 664

    The look in your eyes tells me everything I need to know. Your lips communicate, with soft pressure, the core truth. There is no call for a label. For a flag or an ism. For a placard or an ‘identity’. We are in not in need of causes and walls and us‘n’them markers. There is…

  • Love letter # 415

    So the fantasy is no longer viable. The ideal ‘us’ revealed as a construction; mostly of lust and other longings. It kept us going for years. Until recently. Now its lustre has cracked to texture, its flame dwindled to flint. Yet what if, in waking, we discovered something more potent than hormonal dreams and daily…

  • Love letter # 369

    Please do not be fooled by my hesitation, or by any apparent coolness. I do like you. Actually, a little bit more than like you. It’s just that, until now, I have stopped short of obvious display; preferring the safety of hints. It’s not that I don’t want you to know, it’s that I don’t…

  • Love letter # 768

    I saw you before your eyes sought me out, heard your song before you said my name. I saw you in the sea before there was an island. I sensed the onset long before the rain. The signs of you were clear before you spelled it out. You had reached across the space between us…

  • Love letter # 410

    I am writing to thank you; but also to apologise. The latter is because I am breaking my silence, the former is because you give me the only reason to do so. The bare truth of the matter is that our brief exchanges – your smiles, those hugs you give me, the touches – remind…