FREE LOVE LETTERS

Category: Grateful

  • Love letter # 550

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    So here we are on the brink of remembering. Serene progress interrupted. The flutter of ancient butterflies. The nausea of wondering. The waves of your passing. I am leaning, not falling – but enough to sense the up-rushing impact. The rupture. A fresh, hairline break in a heart long stilled. As though a spring storm…

  • Love letter # 507

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    With you, I was beautiful. It was transformative. It changed the way I saw the world. As though, with your eyes, I could see through the congealed disappointment of years. Where darkness and doubt once reigned, in your advent, light and liberty were unfurled. Until then, you were the gorgeous detail I overlooked – in…

  • Love letter # 671

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    You nearly had me fooled. Believing it was me. Then I saw you do the same with others. The smile, the posture, the close attention. Yet I shall not curse you. My stumbling is my imbalance. You are merely utilising the advantages given to you by nature. I would do the same if I were…

  • For my vanished Valentines

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    You. All of you. Seeping through cracks in time. Splinters in splintered memory. Each of you left behind, embraced now by distance; from which I may regard, with detached perspective, the folly of erstwhile excess and the dry ache of ancient deprivation. What was I thinking? The unkept promises, the self-pitying dramas, the cruel indecisions.…

  • Love letter # 452

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    What, in the midst, seems hellish, will sometimes be revealed as deliverance. Thus it was with us. A journey into conflict that, in its denouement, yielded more than mere catharsis. In fire we saw, truly, that which was burnt. Which required burning. Did we tear ourselves apart – make ourselves anew with the scatterlings? Were…

  • Love letter # 589

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    There are many forms of blindness. I have endured a number of them; none more so than when I failed to see – failed to believe – the truth about you. The evidence was plentiful. In cold moments it was undeniable. But I was in a fog of fever. In your defence, you did warn…

  • For the anniversary of stars

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    A glance at the screen, a date in the corner; and just like that: thirty years. The gap between waking and dreaming. A space hollowed of promises. The tender hook, still fast. Timeless. Remember how it rained that afternoon. How the evening was soft; lambent as the rings changed hands and the waterfall sang nearby.…

  • Love letter # 713

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    You were a white blonde child; now you’re honey brown. You were a lissome youth; now your lightness takes a different form. I cannot hold you as you were – except in the trap of memory – for you are not the angel of yore, you are the fractured and complex beauty of now. If…

  • Letter to the unrecognisable ex

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    After seeing you again the other day, I am now compelled. The sadness of the occasion, the shock of you. The way you screwed up your face, like an irritated child, and the bitterness that hardened your eyes and smelt like poison. At times, like hatred. Who is this imposter? I wondered. Where did the…

  • Love letter # 439

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    This evening, conjured by the angled sun, called up by the softening folds of seasonal air, you were with me once more. Present in my charged senses. Or rather, I was back there – then – decades evaporated – on the trundling red train, moving up the hill to your teenage welcome. Perhaps I should…