FREE LOVE LETTERS

Category: Philosophical

  • 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 # 529

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Is it realistic for me to harbour hope, to imagine a future including you? Much as I would like to say yes, when I wake from the dream of your beauty, truth is the sober eye. It is clear to me that I could offer and you would accept, and that for a short time,…

  • This is not a love letter

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    I cannot say if I love you, even though I speak the words. Perhaps I am simply obsessed, searching for validation. Maybe I want to control you, to somehow force your attentions and affectations onto me. Or this could be primal, the grind of genetic impulse overriding all objections, doing whatever it can to convince…

  • Love letter # 600

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Do I take the risk? Become vulnerable again. Open up to the possibility of joy and sorrow. Let someone in. We are no longer young and driven by the compulsions of sex and coupling. We have lived through the multiple disappointments of damaged intimacy and witnessed the collapse of flawed fantasy. Neither of us are…

  • Love letter # 551

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    We paused on the brink of forever and left with never. So close to everything yet ending with nothing. Had you leant in for that kiss, I would not be here now. And you? Where would you be tonight?  

  • 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…

  • Letter to the passser-by

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    You caught me looking. I can imagine your reaction. Dirty old man! I will not undress for your gaze. Your sneer left a barb in me. It smarts; yet is not a wound. More like a bruise on the world. I did not see an object, nor play a scene in my head. Instead, I…

  • Behold them in the triumph of light

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    What now, if anything, shall we wrest from sediment? When the pretty lights have faded to fallen husk, what shall we make of burnt out shells? This, my love, is what awaits us this spring. In the garden of history, the archaeology of whispers. Here now, bones of fire. Brush the dirt from fragments, reconstruct…

  • Love letter # 477

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    They don’t have to know the truth – just something they can believe that will make them leave us alone.