FREE LOVE LETTERS

Category: Nostalgic

  • Love letter # 644

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    We give all our love to the girls of memory, because they are never further than a thought away. They walk beside us in the fiction of our conjuring, where our hearts are always true. Though we may be sexless and alone, we feel the rhythm of their sway in the beat of our blood.…

  • Love letter # 0707

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    14. That’s how many years. Since you sat across from me. Dissolved me in your gaze. Seems like forever now. Yet…but an instant. A thought. The triggering of a current in my wires. I may not be the same man, but the body holds the charge you left in me. The memory tells its story…

  • Love letter # 518

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    We said no, even though we were on the cusp of yes. Looking at old phone footage – the way we interact, how close we stand, the way our bodies seem to signal a kind of unity – I see it clearly. More than ever. But it wasn’t to be. Our unspoken dance dissipated, morphing…

  • Love letter # 687

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Was that you in the corner of the room? Is that why you kept looking across, your eyes seeming to invite connection? I rarely visit past haunts. They hold no attraction. Life moves in different orbits these days. Sometimes a few years will pass between returns. Each time the ghosts seem paler, the echoes hollowed…

  • Letter to my misremembered sweetheart

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    It is clear. I remember you hazily. Incorrectly. Does this matter? In my reconfiguring of us, much of the contradictory truth has been reduced to official fiction. Again, what of it? If I imagine you falsely, and my retrospective editing hurts no one, scarcely even me, what value exactness? Am I not better to love…

  • Love letter # 634

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    I don’t mean this to sound like obsession…but I still think of you. Not in words, or in imagined scenes, but with a strange kind of sensing. Muscle memory perhaps. Something unconscious. It is as though there is a door in space and time through which I can pass in a blink, one that brings…

  • Love letter # 662

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    This noonday, on the Esplanade, overlooking the blue expanse, I travelled at the speed of sunshine. Across the bay of forgetting. The light must have been just so. Call it azure, cerulean, aquatint…it was the colour of belief. The belief that comes before knowing.    I was arrested mid-breath. The clatter of the day washed…

  • I know at last the power of not knowing

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in , ,

    You set in motion a chain of extraordinary events in me, by an act of authoring not yet fully understood. Perhaps it was simply something you allowed. In the space you created, the quiet had their say, the imperfect were permitted, the vain became irrelevant. And our fear turned to awe, thanks to a force…

  • Love letter # 478

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Every year at this time I fall in love with you again. For a few weeks from mid-September my body remembers. Not in words or pictures. In quickening. A tension sweet and low and giddy. On bright evenings I breathe in honey. I glide, as though you had just bestowed your kiss upon me. In…

  • Love letter # 467

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    In clear headed moments I know you no longer think of me as I still think of you; and I am fine with this. I do not seek to rewrite history. When you said you loved me, you meant it –  just as you did, minutes later, when you said you couldn’t stand me. We…