Author: Paul Ransom

  • Love letter # 818

    You are the beauty that lingers, long after the moment has passed.

  • A light so bright I can’t see anything else

    A light so bright I can’t see anything else

    Visceral…spiritual. Transporting…transformative. Flying…falling…crying…joyous. Dissolving…disassembling. So open…absolutely everything flooding out. Nothing…nothing in the way. Annihilating the restraint of detail. A light so bright I can’t see anything else.

  • Love letter # 91

    It can barely be spoken of; words I can hardly say, trembling on my tongue. Waves rising in my breathing, dams bursting in my speech. In this tidal swell I am erased. Made a space. Oh, please don’t fill me, leave me excavated. With your name, half uttered, broken on my lips, you wipe away…

  • Love letter # 799

    Subtle. Inescapable. This feeling that lives with me. My companion. Tracing my steps, following my line of sight. Moving to the rhythm of my breath. The me that isn’t me, yet is infused. Sweetness of my aching. Flavour of the space between – which vanishes at the speed of sensing. Oh you…nowhere, everywhere. All at…

  • 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.