FREE LOVE LETTERS

Category: Sad

  • Love letter # 683

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    I remember everything. It has never left me. The sense of you nearby. I hear the sound of your footsteps; they echo in the valley of my love. I feel your body’s warmth, like the humid cloak of hot afternoons, wrapped around me. I reach into space. The air is your fingertips. I move in…

  • Love letter # 374

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Though I can see you on a screen and message you whenever I choose, you seem so far away. Two dimensional love is not enough. Emoticons don’t cut it. Even phone calls ring hollow. Physical distance, I fear, may one day become emotional distance. Our intimacy simply forgotten. The sense of you – touch, taste,…

  • Love letter # 464

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Sometimes, your beauty is rupture. Wrenching. It rends the fabric of compromise. You stand within touching distance yet remain untouchable. The lovely details, each one sharpened. I feel them as the severing of hope. Your splendour is the sentence passed. The inexorable chasm between desire and its return. Rather I had not seen you. For…

  • Love letter # 494

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Of course I think about touching. You must know this already. I try to hide it, but desire has a way of showing through. I see your eyes searching me, prising apart my fragile reserve. Questioning my eroding resolve. Yet, I am duly confined to my role as watcher. Admirer. My love shall barely breath…

  • Love letter # 563

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Even now, you reveal me to myself. As though, across time and distance, your voice in the form of echoes, magic in the guise of miasma. I came out of the meeting late, dusk settling. Walked along the street of our past. The places we drank. Kissed. Fought. The short cuts we took back to…

  • 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.

  • Letter to the unrecognisable ex

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    After seeing you again the other day, I am now compelled. The sadness of the occasion, the shock of you. The way you screwed up your face, like an irritated child, and the bitterness that hardened your eyes and smelt like poison. At times, like hatred. Who is this imposter? I wondered. Where did the…

  • Love letter # 565

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Though I have stood next to you, heard your private words, tended to the wounds you keep hidden, still I remain at the distance of mystery. Still you are the secret kept. If I have sought to love you, you have been as sand. Impermanent. Shifting at the behest of breath. And whenever I have…

  • Love letter # 354

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Time may well erode my memory of you but not how I remember. I have already forgotten the sound of your voice, the curve of your waist, the scent of your freshly washed skin. In truth, I can barely picture you now, let alone recall the soft weight of your touch. The factual traces are…

  • Love letter # 412

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    I write this to have it said. To give it the shape of language. Tomorrow, I may think it mere venting – but today I am impelled. Emboldened by your absence; or rather, by the ways in which I have lately been reminded of you. The circles around me, the orbiting others, the noises they…