FREE LOVE LETTERS

Category: Sorry

  • Love letter # 611

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    There is a break-up arithmetic. It is an accounting of sorrows, a logging of bruises. As though the tagging of evidence might alter anything. As if the apportioning of blame can dam the flow of blood. This is the useless math of injustice and validation. The numbers say almost nothing about the skin in the…

  • Love letter # 20

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    It goes like this: notice, ache, look away. Remind myself: this is not going anywhere. The years, scarcely a greater distance. Perhaps you have not seen me look at you; but I have registered the way you never see me. Why would you? Yours is the entire world, all its heavenly gifts. Mine is the…

  • There will be no distance

    There will be no distance

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    What if I have no energy left for this? What if it’s all cost, and no reward? Shall I just keep trying and trying and hoping for a different result? I know I am not perfect. I could have taken a different approach. Maybe I am too impatient. Maybe my expectations, which seem so small…

  • Love letter # 190

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    Wasn’t always like this, was it? Used to feel effortless. Natural. We always found a way. Now we get lost. Fight over the map. Go round in circles. Spiral. Could it be we over-reached? Set a bar so high we were bound to stumble? In all likelihood we will never find out. Instead, we will…

  • Love letter # 538

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    It was not deliberate – but it was careless. There was no cruelty intended – but I was thoughtless. Selfish. If I was confused, unsure, so too was I churlish. Acting out. No matter…the house is now burnt. A storm has raged its way across our home, such that it has become a shell. Walls…

  • Love letter # 602

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    We all love. At least until we are broken. All of us give and, in turn, will be forsaken. We each have wounds, and leave our scars on others. You and I were no different. Ordinary angels. Fallen once more. Across the beautiful brutality of time, with futile longing, I sense your impossible distance. And…

  • Love letter # 31

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    When first I loved you, it was not you. It was the ideal. The one you could never be. Later, tarnished, I tried to force you into shape. Until I woke up. At which point you were saying goodbye. Now, divorced of need, I call out the tyranny of fantasy. I say to the dream:…

  • Love letter # 894

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Of all the things I have fallen short in, loving you is the most telling. It is not your accusative snarl that cuts, it is the pain it voices. The awful wrench that separates dream from reality, expectation from delivery. The mirage has resolved to thirst, and I too am parched. We may all be…

  • Love letter # 299

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Now. Spring. In the burnished evening. Feeling ancient. Exiled. The beautiful ones I used to talk to, who now look through me. Or regard me with pity. Worse, revulsion. To the scent of blooms I fall upon the only thing I truly regret. The way I ignored you. And I want it all to end.…

  • I wish I did not feel for you

    —

    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    How much easier it would be, how neat and orderly, if I knew of a way not to care. You would be nothing more than another troubled soul. Sorry tale. Victim. Drama queen. Too much bother. Yet I have loved you, perhaps blinded by the beauty buried in the mess. Despite the darkness, the light…