FREE LOVE LETTERS

Category: Sad

  • Love letter # 200

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    In the ragged shadow, a vacuum. An implosion. You – torn from me. Every day heavy. Numb, screaming, dissolving at the drop of thought. The breathless staggering. Unimaginable future. Then, for a long while, abrasion. The rough grain of society. The hollow chime of voices. The pretending. Yes, I’m good; which I was not. The…

  • Love letter # 64

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Since you. Most days. I am the near neighbour of melancholy muses. I hear them clearly. Voices in the dwelling of sorrow. Calling out my name. The sirens of improbable distance. Like today. Sadness descending, sensuous like the humid warmth of a cloudy summer day. The lustrous embrace of separation. I was in public. I…

  • Love letter # 411

    Love letter # 411

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Seeking distance. Numbness. A blaze of sex. Blur of intoxication. Defiant self-talk. Strip you from my skin. Tear that page out. Now the wound of folly. Dishonour. You only said goodbye. I scratched the paint from the walls. Hoping that the ruins would set me free. They did not. In time, this blood will clot,…

  • Love letter # 555

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    There is nothing I can say here that you do not already know. This is merely an act of confirmation. Though it may be dressed in a thousand ways, the truth is naked. The end.

  • Love letter # 646

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    I wrote your name in a thousand places. One for each night I lay broken. Did anyone ever wonder? Perhaps you simply sat next to me one day, then routinely walked away. And this is all nothing.  

  • Love letter # 663

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    I write this letter to myself. To remind me. Today, for the first time since farewell, for a quiet minute or so, we did not think of her. Thus, it begins. The end.

  • I remember sunburnt shoulders

    I remember sunburnt shoulders

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in , , ,

    When I heard that you died, I felt your leaving like a layer of absence, as though a sliver had been excised. The loss of you is subtly haunting, a faint resonance in a largely vacated space. Decades ago, in our shared boyhood, we ran through the carefree hours between schooling and nascent adulthood. Before…

  • Love letter # 547

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Lately – cannot say why – I have sensed you like the presence of weather. Close like the tropical night. I have dreamt of you fifteen times; and there we have danced, like we never did. You kissed me in these visions as I still wish you would. And when my eyes are open, for…

  • Love letter # 546

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Autumn. Evening. Dusk like scented smoke. Soft chill. Like the way you once sighed; and I so nearly touched you. But didn’t. A petal shivering. Tear of dew on downy skin. As though anything firmer than quiet longing would turn the bloom to dust. I heard the wave of your breath crashing. The tide receding.…

  • Love letter # 828

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Congratulations. I wish you well. Both of you. Truly. It is good to be found. Having seen the truth of this, I would not wish it lost. And yet…everything else, which I need not repeat. For that which is unsaid is already known.   

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