FREE LOVE LETTERS

Author: Paul Ransom

  • Love letter # 346

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    It is not simply that I love you but that, in you, I am the act of love. Your eyes turn me into light, your voice into song. When you move I am the dance – and when you leave I am the distance between stars. But your touch … now I am the very…

  • Love letter # 409

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    There is always a certain moment in the changing of the seasons, when the first soft afternoon of spring fills the air with scent and beautiful light, when I am once again the young and hopeful fool who sat beside you in the dappled sunshine. I breathe in, and my body remembers the electric shiver…

  • Love letter # 357

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Love is one of those words – ideas, tropes, clichés – that gets misused all the time. Mistaken for lust and ownership, dependence and habit. We have, I’m certain, each been guilty of all of the above. Yet still we remain, despite the inadequacy of words and the grind of years. In spite of all…

  • Love letter # 502

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    In the beginning there was a kind of blindness. In the end I was staring at wreckage. In between there was you. Or rather, the manner of my breaking open upon your touch. The dumbstruck awe, the distemper of desire, the sheer terror that only beauty can evince. You came, I fell at your door,…

  • Ode to the checkout chick

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    I know I’m not the first single, middle aged guy to be smitten by the shopgirl thing – and I’m sure I won’t be the last. Especially if the girl in question is as gorgeous as you. It’s true I barely know you – just a name badge and beautiful smile – and I’m guessing…

  • Love letter # 323

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Your walk. The hypnotic sway of it. The quiet way you dance, eyes closed, seemingly oblivious to anything but the ecstasy of music. The subtlety of your smile. How you seem to know something the rest of us don’t. And then there’s the distance. That spectral horizon your eyes always drift out towards. As though…

  • Love letter # 886

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Of course I lashed out at you. It’s what injured people do. Defend the ground they think is theirs. Blame the other. Neither of us were saintly, let’s be frank. Our dynamic was both destructive and self-affirming. Over time and poorly chosen words we both threw up barricades. The patterns became deep ruts, tracks from…

  • Love letter # 345

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Sometimes, just the thought of your name tears strips off me. Or a line in a song. The scent of a bloom. A trick of the light. And sometimes just because. Because it was what it was – and you are who you are.

  • Love letter # 637

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    You are so beautiful I can barely look at you. I am literally physically affected. Deep stirring occurs – lust yes, but also more than that, a longing to care and protect. God, even to adore. As though via some extraordinary mechanism of gravity you could usher a river from me. And this is both…

  • Love letter # 403

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    In my fantasy this is how it goes: I post this and somehow you read it – and of course you know right away. After all, what else could it be? Who but you? Who but me? Because we were both there when there was nothing else. When the whole of existence seemed to pivot…