FREE LOVE LETTERS

Category: Smitten

  • Love letter # 698

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Most people are like neutrinos. They pass through you without effect, nary a ripple on the surface. This is not to deride them; it’s simply how it is. But not with you. With you it was deal breaking, climate changing. It was an apocalypse for a while; now it’s the new normal. But not just…

  • Love letter # 473

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    However much I would like to talk to you, I am sabotaged. Perhaps it is shallow and silly to admit, but I am befuddled by your form and flow. Words catch and break. Mature demeanour disintegrates. I get sweaty. It’s terrible. The irony of your beauty is that you will most likely never see me.…

  • Love letter # 835

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    How many roads have I travelled in search of belief? Schools of thought, ancient philosophers, the many isms and ideologies; these have been my citadels of faith. All have crumbled. Their gods are not merely slain but revealed to be little more than idols of fantasy. Yet I have gladly set these relics aside and…

  • Love letter # 456

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    The beauty of it is subtle. Light slowly creeping into a room. Scent of a flower rising in the air. A gradual emergence of change, of anticipation. There’s a Japanese word – fuubutsushi – look it up; it describes how I feel now that you are on the scene. It is the first evocation, unexpected…

  • I saw you look at stars

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    It was easy to see. You in your beautiful dress. Him sitting opposite, perhaps not noticing. On his phone. Your head turned slightly to the side, looking elsewhere. Maybe it was nothing. Could have been anything. What would I know? Then you saw me looking. You held my gaze long enough. A wave came over…

  • For the beautiful strangers

    For the beautiful strangers

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Though we are yet to meet, and may never, I know, by instinct, precisely who you are. I see you, fully formed, in the blinding dazzle of sunlight. I feel you, present and textural, in the warm murmur of golden evenings. I sense your approach, rising, in the abundant promise of spring. Intoxicated, I can…

  • Love letter # 505

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Being with you is like listening to The Ronettes. When you came into my life, so unexpected, I was transported, cast into flight, like the euphoric chorus of teenage pop songs. Now I am electrified, dizzied by an uncomplicated, plaintive yearning that feels like innocent joy. The ridiculous blush of it, the sunlit hope, as…

  • Love letter # 483

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    After all is said and done, I prefer to be near you. If you feel the same, let’s just keep it that way. What other reasons do we require?

  • Love letter # 487

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Today, in the afternoon sunlight…a scent that reminded me of you. I have been floating ever since.

  • Love letter # 650

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    There is a moment, when the sun pierces clouds towards the close of a winter afternoon, that brings me to you. It is a fragile brightness. It is the colour of hope. A brief transportation to the richness of spring, to the sensual bake of summer. For though the dark and cold are quick to…