Author: Paul Ransom

  • Love letter # 530

    Between us, a pact, a language, a force. Ineffable. Undeniable. That thing we have. Our way of seeing. Bleeding. Though, at times, we differ, we remain the same. Because we know. Sometimes, it is a sound, the deep wave of a bell. At others, a translucence. Or a space, quiet and awesome. Our beautiful annihilation.…

  • For my secret love

    Though it remained unspoken – nary a whisper – it was never forgotten. Our brief salvation. Easy to regret now. The crush. The solace. Highs built on broken ground. A morning after so predictable. Breaking up under cover. The quiet agony of those seared by furtive fire. Did you ever confess? I didn’t. And won’t…

  • Love letter 969

    Young once. Alive, dangerous, enthralling. How readily I fell. Scarcely believing that one such as you would spare a second for someone like me. So long ago now. Dust gathered in the hollow of our ardour. Blurred memory in the place of blue sky hope. Yet I will not regret. Not ever. How could I?…

  • Love letter # 260

    You will never know, even if I tell you; because it is indescribable.

  • Love letter # 114

    I have you in my blood now, sticking to my skin, hovering like the weight of space in my chest. We are far apart, yet…you…physically present. Like the soft glisten of gold summer in slate hard winter. Aching quietly, I vault the sea in frictionless fantasy. Then, with relief – with a recognition that defies…

  • Love letter # 763

    There was a distance. It was where we lived.

  • Love letter # 627

    You whispered your secrets in another language, yet still I heard. I replied in my own fumbling tongue, yet you seemed to know. Even now, distant, your quiet murmurs echo in my heart. We may be apart, but still we move in time.

  • Love letter # 193

    God, I was so full of desire. Truly, I did not know what for. I thought it was for you. And then it went. But not before you. For what seemed like an eternity – yet was a blink – I poured it all into the space you vacated. It did not fill. Still, it…

  • Love letter # 602

    We all love. At least until we are broken. All of us give and, in turn, will be forsaken. We each have wounds, and leave our scars on others. You and I were no different. Ordinary angels. Fallen once more. Across the beautiful brutality of time, with futile longing, I sense your impossible distance. And…

  • Unnumbered

    Yes, even as the first letters emerge, this missive is redundant. A reduction. Language, a fraction. Unnecessary. Yet, these tools, inadequate, are what I have. For there is a voice, and it wishes to speak. Not so as to be heard, rather to feel what is being said. To be the channel. Bear witness. Here,…