FREE LOVE LETTERS

Category: Smitten

  • Love letter # 9

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Someone lit a match, brought a flame to life. Was it you? Tell me how to interpret this, for I have lost my reason. It vanished in your proximity. Those eyes, that mouth. The curve of you. God, I can still smell you – I stole these atoms from your breath and scurried off. And…

  • Love letter # 1

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    You won’t read this so I won’t lie. This is love without hooks, without points of order. But what becomes of love when it’s dammed? Does it pour through cracks? Does it threaten sudden inundation? I can answer only by saying that the secret unleashing of floods is a euphoric liberation. It is the beauty…

  • Love letter # 77

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Because of you – all of this. I know – ridiculous. I shudder when I hear myself think it but here I am saying it out loud. All for you. Previous reasons – they were vanity. Ego seeking itself. Now that I love you the whole world is transformed – and beauty is the temple…

  • Love letter # 15

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    It started with a fire. A fire in my heart. And all my smart tricks turned to ash. I thought I was the king of everything – and then there was you – beautiful, beautiful angel. And now I am breathless. Now I am a feather on the breeze. Now I am the dancer –…

  • Love letter # 101

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    How could I have known that my ten o’clock would turn out to be you. I had no defences deployed – no armour against eyes. Nothing could have prepared me for your gorgeous mouth, the curve of your shoulders, the hint of freshly showered skin. Now I’m butterflies. Or perhaps I’m just an overly optimistic…

  • Love letter # 5

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    The afternoon light at this time of year – it is the colour of your splendour. Like rattling up the hill in the old train, waiting outside for your flatmate to leave. Sneaking in. Springtime on the back porch. You right there. Me scarcely able to believe it. Every year the flowers make me sneeze.…