FREE LOVE LETTERS

Category: Smitten

  • Love letter # 442

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    For you I need look no further. You are in my blood, electricity in my fibres. You are made of the same sinew, and in the subsoil of my being you have grown to fruition. When I am dancing, you are the animator. When I sing of love it is with your voice. When it…

  • Love letter # 325

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    If you touch me I am sure I will promptly dissolve. If you take me in your arms I may just break. That’s how it feels – almost asphyxiating in your presence, wondering where to look, what to do, how not to melt into a formless mess. You see this kind of thing in films,…

  • Love letter # 440

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    I could say it in a million ways but it always comes back to this: I love you. What does that mean? To be honest, I can’t pin it down – but I can sure feel it. This love, whatever it is, is as obvious as breath, as vital as blood. It is in me.…

  • Love letter # 420

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Hey, this might be little more than a ‘friends with benefits’ thing…but we can call it love if we want. After all, it is just a word, a symbol of something shared between people, an indicator of something more special than the merely average or convenient. Sure, we can shy away from it if you…

  • Love letter # 532

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    I walked into a fire to be with you – and now I live in the river of indescribable beauty. I tore off the hinges to let you in, so that you might lay ruin to my kingdom. At your golden behest, I reached up to the canopy of heaven, only for it to rain…

  • Love letter # 372

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    It’s the glorious folly of it that attracts me. It’s because it isn’t strictly sensible or grounded in so-called reality, because the risks are so enormous, because it invites such suffering and disappointment, and courts at every step disillusion and potential bitterness. Even though we cannot say precisely what it is, and it so often…

  • Love letter # 387

    Love letter # 387

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    It’s the fall of your hair. The lustrous cascade of it. The gorgeous wave it has. Those golden highlights. More than just beautiful; borderline majestic. For when you free it from its workaday constraint and it flows like a sparkling river of light, I too am simply swept along. As though I were a strand,…

  • Love letter # 409

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    There is always a certain moment in the changing of the seasons, when the first soft afternoon of spring fills the air with scent and beautiful light, when I am once again the young and hopeful fool who sat beside you in the dappled sunshine. I breathe in, and my body remembers the electric shiver…

  • Ode to the checkout chick

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    I know I’m not the first single, middle aged guy to be smitten by the shopgirl thing – and I’m sure I won’t be the last. Especially if the girl in question is as gorgeous as you. It’s true I barely know you – just a name badge and beautiful smile – and I’m guessing…

  • Love letter # 323

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Your walk. The hypnotic sway of it. The quiet way you dance, eyes closed, seemingly oblivious to anything but the ecstasy of music. The subtlety of your smile. How you seem to know something the rest of us don’t. And then there’s the distance. That spectral horizon your eyes always drift out towards. As though…