FREE LOVE LETTERS

Category: Grateful

  • Love letter # 817

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    There was a line in a Hindi film. How beautiful it is to long for you. Hearing it, I knew. The sweetness I feel. The narcotic scent of it, like a forest. I know that I am lost in it sometimes. That I want it so. Never to be found, always to wander. Never to…

  • Love letter # 553

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Over time, small departures accrue. Mundane separations feeling somehow important. Leaving little dents in me. Rents in the fabric of self-reliance. As you have now done, without even realising. Not your fault, nor your problem. My softly spoken sorrow. My unmeasured distance from the memory of touch. Our polite farewell feels like tearing because it…

  • Love letter # 138

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Earlier, sitting where you used to, watching, I saw right through them. The crowds, so busy. Anything but stop and notice. Rush, swipe, buy. The dazzle of distraction. And there, in the hollow, I felt the space you have now vacated. Your imprint, so subtle, very nearly nothing at all. A kindness, a reminder. Later,…

  • Love letter # 582

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Time heals, so they say, yet it does not erase. For it is hard to delete an absence. Much has changed since we parted ways but the valley you carved has remained. It traces the frontier in my life. Before/after. In truth, I never got over it. Yes, I moved on, I functioned, and I…

  • Love letter # 118

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    It was your kindness that drew me to you. So clear, so simple, stark against the scrawl of everything else. In a world loud with selfish empire, with crude grasping and mean denial, scratched with the arbitrary markings of tribal assertion, it was your gentle gift. Offered without fuss. Untrumpeted. In this ugly squall of…

  • Letter to a first love, long lost

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    In the cool exhalation of winter, when the first sighs of spring soften the evening, it is still you, walking with me in the slanted sunlight. My body remembers the season and the blossoms recall you with their perfume. At each inhalation, you approach, until I can feel your warmth. Present. Never having left. Years…

  • Love letter # 193

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    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 # 12

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Anywhere. Anytime. In any language. For any reason. Without caveat. That is all. Nothing else.

  • Love letter # 31

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    When first I loved you, it was not you. It was the ideal. The one you could never be. Later, tarnished, I tried to force you into shape. Until I woke up. At which point you were saying goodbye. Now, divorced of need, I call out the tyranny of fantasy. I say to the dream:…

  • Love letter # 657

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Did I love you in ways I should not have? Quite likely. Here then, the ruins of my desire. Souvenirs of a particular derangement. Wounds or treasure? Both. Pride has primed me for this fall. Thank you for setting me down.