FREE LOVE LETTERS

Category: Philosophical

  • Love letter # 92

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    It lives in my body. The space. Not as pain or weight, but as gentle vacuum. And only when I look at it. Like now. Feeling you near and far. The sound of your name as I breathe it. Whispers in a half understood language. Tears of joy and sorrow. Swoon of separation. Writing these…

  • Love letter # 375

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    We held our breath, turned away for a moment, and the space opened out. Like resignation. A distance calibrated with wisdom, but billed in longing. For here we are…safe, cocooned, recovered. No more rushing of blood. No more blinding light. Yet, when I step out the door I still hope to find you there. I…

  • Love letter # 158

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    I had no idea I would miss you like this. Quietly, deeply. With a palpable wrench. Not painful, per se, but undeniable. At odd moments, scattered, I feel as though I still walk your streets, still hear your language; and I ache to spend another hour on your shore. We did not know each other…

  • Write your name on the wall of loneliness

    Write your name on the wall of loneliness

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    It happened again today. Heart breaking in a public place. A young Mandarin speaking mother sitting less than a metre to my left, exhausted as she tried to get her child to settle. Our eyes briefly met. A pale smile, flickering across the cosmic space of language, decades, and parenthood. She was drowning, but I…

  • Love letter # 217

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Ask once and the answer is yes. Ask a hundred times and it will be no. My love will not hold up under scrutiny. It will not consistently meet the criteria. Neither will yours. Therefore, I shall not dissect and quantify your affections, just as I shall not expect them. Although you have said “I…

  • Love letter # 1001

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Shall we apply the old standards…or would you like to break with convention? We could, of course, repeat old patterns. Bring the grime of history to our table. Start with a spark, end with a smear of ash. Rub more salt in. Or we could choose something else. But that is just fighting talk; and…

  • Love letter # 105

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    I am not sure what to say. Maybe nothing would be wiser. I could defer to the standard language, but those words are broken. What it boils down to is this: I like being with you, and I would like to spend more time in your presence. I do not feel the need to pretend…

  • Love letter # 95

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    I send this message knowing the chances of you receiving it are slender. I have no expectation of an answer, nor of any other exceptional outcome. Life is not Netflix. We are not destined. In lieu of miracles, I speak for the joy of speaking. To have it said. To know it is out there.…

  • Love letter # 732

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    There are moments when everything is so clear, as though the hidden simplicity of things was made abundantly known. This may seem metaphysical – spiritual – yet it is as close as kindness. In this light we see ourselves. Fragile and fraught. We have the gift of love in our hands, yet so often we…

  • Am I loveless?

    Am I loveless?

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Always the scent of flowering. The heady onset. Yet, this season…the slow swoon of distance. The undeniable space between fire and ash. I yearn…but for no one. They are all gone. Ancient darlings, possible flames. Instead, I walk along the road of last year’s ardour. Further away than ever. Little more than syllables now. Bittersweet…