FREE LOVE LETTERS

Author: Paul Ransom

  • Love letter # 134

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Ah, summer dresses. Whoever designed them must have had my particular surrender in mind, so precisely am I unpicked by the scent of skin and sway. By what is hidden and what is shown. By the beautiful way you move. I cannot look at you in that dress and be unmoved. Cannot look you in…

  • Love letter # 242

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    In the end, I will leave with exactly what I came with; so I would like to spend some of that journey with you. It would make things brighter. There would be skin. And weakness. And splendour. And all other catechisms of purpose. Yet, perhaps there is something quieter, something beneath the mighty clamour, which…

  • Love letter # 356

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Why? Because it feels so good to care. Because I am a fire when I love you. When I am most animal, I am most angel. To wrap my arms around you in the sweet quiet of the night is to seek an audience with the light. Because when I love you this way, everything…

  • Love letter # 289

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Joy and sorrow are the twin lodgers of my two roomed heart. They are the on and the off – the song and silence. They moved in when you did. They are both the light of your nearness and the shadow that it casts. The promise that you bring and the love that you withhold.…

  • Love letter # 240

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    I confess – I set out to be cruel to you today. I wanted to punish you for my hurt. But I couldn’t. I saw you and that warm, resilient flower inside me opened up, like the sun returning after winter. I wanted to push you away but something stronger kicked in. An elemental force.…

  • Love letter # 213

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Some distances melt away – with song, with years, with chance. Like when I thought I saw you in a corner. The one you made your own. When we were we. However, this is no sad missive, for I was breathless with joy when I briefly believed it was you. Memory is an unreliable witness,…

  • Love letter # 146

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    This may surprise you. I wanted to. Ached to do so. But I just couldn’t. Didn’t. Too many barely healed wounds. The heaviness of history. Net result: I was rooted to the spot. Not able to form the words, nor make the move. Easier to walk away and have you wonder what planet I’m on.…

  • Love letter # 204

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Because I was hurt, I tried to hurt you. Because my pride was punctured, I tried to shoot holes in yours. I sought respite from my pain in anger, and an answer to all my tormenting questions in the vicious conspiracy of hindsight. Yet in the end, all these things simply added up to the…

  • Love letter # 241

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    It’s the things you don’t prepare for that get through. That picture of you popping up on my slideshow. You reading the card I gave you, wearing the scarf I bought you. How could I have known that I would never hold you again? I believed we were closer than ever on that day. I…

  • Love letter # 157

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Today I looked at you with brand new eyes. Had I not truly seen you before, or have you changed? Perhaps the answer to this is academic – because all I know for sure is that when I saw you today I was unexpectedly breathless. Sometimes, it is not the first impression that counts, but…