FREE LOVE LETTERS

Category: Philosophical

  • Love letter # 2020

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    This could be the best thing that ever happened to us. We might remember why we love one another.

  • Love letter # 485

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Though I once yearned for the summer, summer made its way. Now that I pray for the summer to stay, autumn is merely a cool breath away. My desire is what desire is; the sound of itself. Yet you emerged from the silence; and into the quiet – and though my longing is sustained, you…

  • Love letter # 558

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Perhaps if we had not felt the immensity, we too would have sought the surety of anchors. Reduced ourselves to the bareness of names. Huddled beneath the aegis of myth. Knelt in the cathedral of tribes. Yet it was the land that we loved, not the king who laid claim. The fragile rhythm of hearts,…

  • 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…

  • Love letter # 682

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    I tell myself things that are not true; so as not to fall in love with you. Because that I could not bear.

  • Love letter # 544

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    So…this is what’s left. Words. Not even ink. Nor the slenderness of paper. Simply the flicker of pixels. Intangible, electric remnants. The shifting mystery of memory. A vague impression of scars. Once…a passion that seemed like eternity. Touch, warmth, knowing. Promises whispered, fulfilled in the cry of desire. Our beautiful island. A whole life imagined.…

  • Love letter # 423

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    I do not claim to know. Rather, I hope. I interpret what I believe to be the signs, yet I cannot know if I misread, or if my misty eyes are blind. However, in the light of such uncertainty, I ask myself this: how will it be if, years from now, I am still wracked…

  • Love letter # 484

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    You fan the flames that I cannot explain. You ignite stars that make nights into days. But I love your sadness most of all. That heavenly breaking, temptation to fall. The clunking of doors and the creaking of boards. Dust on the mirror and drafts in the hall. Like rain in the summer, such unlikely…

  • Love letter # 421

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    You know he ignores you, don’t you? I see the way you try to get his attention, or hold it, and he diverts to his phone or gives the minimum response. You smile, your eyes full of tenderness, your lovely form inclined towards him; but he knows he doesn’t have to try. Or thinks he…

  • Love letter # 422

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Yes, I hear them. I know what they’re saying. I can even understand why they say it. But they don’t know. They have mistaken appearance for substance. Their judgement is coded in the beliefs they have about themselves. Their cynic’s wisdom is a cleverly clothed self-loathing. So do not worry, I hear them but do…