FREE LOVE LETTERS

Author: Paul Ransom

  • Love letter # 127

    Love letter # 127

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    In the blue room, I fell for you. In the blue room, you lifted me up.

  • Love letter # 869

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Tonight…your embrace…the voluptuous song, the dance that nears delirium. I move in your permission, grateful traveller. I trace my nomad fortune on your skin. You breathe to let me in. Far from where I have come, I return. Home with you.   

  • Love letter # 284

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    It is one thing to imagine, another to be here beside you. Reminiscence may be sweet, wistful, but presence is powerful. I blink, rub my eyes, just to make sure it is so. Yes. Now you are all around me, as though I never left.

  • Love letter # 103

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Two days ago, everything was in its place. Yesterday, there was a storm, and everything got smashed. Today, sea and sky are calm, as though wind and rain never happened. The world turns. Hours tick by. People go about their business. We are nothing. Was any of it real, or did the dream simply crumple…

  • Love letter # 1007

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Arrange a coincidence. Some scene. We meet by chance. Even the light is right. Time shrinks to now. Us. Perhaps this is it. The becalmed seconds of recognition. The rest, our numerous fictions, our practise of denial. So I will say only this…let us stand awhile in the sunlight and, for a warm, slow minute,…

  • Love letter # 684

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    I want to go to the blue horizon with you. There is no place I would rather be, nor anyone I would rather be there with.  

  • Why I choose to love

    Why I choose to love

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Perhaps it is selfish to speak of love. I give so as to get, etcetera; a transaction of tenderness, an economy of vulnerability. I make my bargain with pain in order to receive the benefits of joy. I am prepared to accept this possibility. Self-interest is pursued in many ways, often to the detriment of…

  • Love letter # 735

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    I still see you, though I no longer look at you. You might whisper, yet I would hear you a thousand miles off. Even though time is shifting like sand, the trace of you remains, such that I still walk beside you. Into the immeasurable distance, where everything dwells.      

  • Love letter # 654

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    This may not be true, yet still I find myself believing. Inundated by the sensation. Prone to fantasy. Might this be the dream that withstands the scrutiny of waking? Throw the die, deal the card, bring the storm. Here now, the fatalism of longing. I am not in control; like the author who lets the…

  • Love letter # 113

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    There was no knowing. Only knowing. No guessing, only guessing. The accident. Our collision. The wreckage that became our harbour. The mapless navigation of storms. Our tracks in a desert of invention. Erase. Create. Forget. Remember. There is no point, only motion. No is, only what will be. We are as a circle, travelling far,…