FREE LOVE LETTERS

Category: Philosophical

  • Love letter # 451

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    I am sending you this with some reservation; not because I harbour any shame but because I realise that the culture of suspicion we currently live in does not really encourage us to express ourselves in this fashion. Especially one as old as me to one so young as you. However, I am not writing…

  • Love letter # 357

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Love is one of those words – ideas, tropes, clichés – that gets misused all the time. Mistaken for lust and ownership, dependence and habit. We have, I’m certain, each been guilty of all of the above. Yet still we remain, despite the inadequacy of words and the grind of years. In spite of all…

  • Love letter # 403

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    In my fantasy this is how it goes: I post this and somehow you read it – and of course you know right away. After all, what else could it be? Who but you? Who but me? Because we were both there when there was nothing else. When the whole of existence seemed to pivot…

  • Love letter # 428

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Truth be told, you would be better advised not to be so friendly, not to sit so close, not to smile like that. You are playing with fire and whilst you will have your fingertips singed my entire world will burn to the ground. Your beauty, combined with your attentions, your habit of openness and…

  • Love letter # 461

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Of course this is ridiculous. It’s so out of step with the modern age – still loving you after all this time. I can almost see the look in your eyes, the shake of your head. Why don’t you just stop!? Why don’t I just stop what? Thinking of you with tenderness? Feeling that incredible…

  • In the absence of everything but beauty

    In the absence of everything but beauty

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Only in mine eye shalt thee be one, For mine is the eye outside, The eye that is not an eye, The seeing that is not seeing. The knowing that knows nothing; For I am the I that is not an I. When you look at me, what will you see? No – not even…

  • Because we wanna ride it to the end

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    You said, how was it we found each other? I replied, because we wanna ride it to the end. We know this now. It’s been confirmed a thousand times. It’s why there is an ever growing space between them and us. Why they snitch. Talk behind their hands. Smile in that condescending way. Take pity…

  • Love letter # 322

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    There are so many reasons to say no. Like the world. And bruises. Like all the busted myths we no longer believe. And the fact that it’s easier to be alone than to contemplate another wound. Cos we’re so over scars, aren’t we? I mean, who needs the drama. It’s just so fucking teenage. So…

  • Love letter # 489

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    You were in my dreams all night. I woke up with your beautiful dark eyes sparkling at me – and I was reminded of the person I came to know in private; the tender, vulnerable, passionate one. The one who is bursting with love. Yet, we both know this is not the version we see…

  • Letter to the random Chinese girl on the 96

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    You will never know this – but by the accident of collision you breached the perimeter. Touched me. Gave me a shiver that I was not expecting. That has given me pause. You will not remember this – but you sat next to me. Your arm against mine, our shoulders brushing, the smell of shampoo…