FREE LOVE LETTERS

Author: Paul Ransom

  • Love letter # 428

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Truth be told, you would be better advised not to be so friendly, not to sit so close, not to smile like that. You are playing with fire and whilst you will have your fingertips singed my entire world will burn to the ground. Your beauty, combined with your attentions, your habit of openness and…

  • Love letter # 319

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Solstice. Winter. The darkness in its pomp. The daylight shivering. So far from you. Wanting so much to lie upon the damp earth and be consumed. To sink into the soil, feed the naked trees. Give my life to something greater. Greater than my futile pride. More beautiful than my ridiculous vanity. Something like the…

  • Love letter # 500

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    I was dizzy in your wake – shaken to the bone by your approach – drunk in the advent of you. Was beauty ever so fragile and intoxicating as it was in your eyes? Was desire ever so wild as it was at the touch your hand? You turned your gaze towards me and in…

  • Love letter # 496

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    She was sitting in a pool of sunlight. It sparkled in her hair. Like diamonds dancing. I watched her quietly. Entranced. After about thirty seconds she turned, our eyes met and her smile unfolded like splendour. For a beat we were in sync. And in that moment I was with you once more. Remembering how…

  • Love letter # 310

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    The way you looked at me yesterday – eyes like a question – your outbreath slowed, lips slightly parted – I wonder do you share this hunger? Is this our folie à deux? I know that there are all kinds of theories for this, from gushing adolescent fancy to the Wal-Mart spirituality of bourgeois denial,…

  • Love letter # 1418

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Now the distance uncrossable. Here the worthless keepsakes, dusted with the film of years. Now the vastness of time. This the deep quiet that separates us. These the gestures, the thousand follies. This the going through the motions. I the act. Everything ritual. Take a step, then another. Smile. Be nice. Pretend. Forgive them their…

  • Love letter # 385

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    There is a scene that has remained with me. It is autumn, the air is turning damp. The light a misty gold. We are standing outside your house. You smile at me. Kiss me politely. It is a promise. I float into the gathering night. I adore you. But it goes no further… Years later,…

  • Love letter # 461

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Of course this is ridiculous. It’s so out of step with the modern age – still loving you after all this time. I can almost see the look in your eyes, the shake of your head. Why don’t you just stop!? Why don’t I just stop what? Thinking of you with tenderness? Feeling that incredible…

  • Love letter # 344

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    On a short break, lingering at the café I usually go to, and all I can think of is you. The colour of the sky, the edges of chill in the pools of shade, the goldening of leaves. Just like the autumn of our wanting all over again. The promise not quite realised. The moment…

  • In the absence of everything but beauty

    In the absence of everything but beauty

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Only in mine eye shalt thee be one, For mine is the eye outside, The eye that is not an eye, The seeing that is not seeing. The knowing that knows nothing; For I am the I that is not an I. When you look at me, what will you see? No – not even…