Tag Archives: Paul Ransom

Love letter # 57

When you’re around, there is no one else. I’ll admit to being a little bit blinded by you. This electricity is fuzzing my head. It’s almost like being nowhere. Only thing left is the crush – y’know, that thing.

It’s like a hot wire – and my spine is on fire.

Forgive the corny rhyme, babe … but at least now you know you’re driving me wild. That’s gotta feel good. Sure does from my end.

If you want the sensible explanation – it’s like rediscovering the real beneath all the practised, careful half truths of everyday. Here am I – mature, thoughtful, blah, blah, blah – and all I wanna do is take you by the hand. Maybe kiss that mouth.

So what do you reckon … shall we dance?

Love letter # 62

Someone asked me what it was like and all I could think to say was: we slept in the sky.

I know that every lover thinks that but that doesn’t make it shine any less. Our adventures were ordinary but they were wonderful. We drank; we sang along, we made love outside. We stalked the wee hours – they were ours. We saw the dawn together and ignored the rest of the world.

Every couple has their golden age. Ours was just another. And now …

I know, you’re expecting me say ‘tired’, ‘bored’, ‘going through the motions’. Hell no. Now we can have something much richer than romance. We can have wine. We can have the rest of time.

Let’s not surrender – except to each other. Be next to me, my beautiful love and I will be next to you.

And then even when it’s cloudy, we can still wake in stars.

Love letter # 3

This morning I woke to find that sorrow had turned back to sweetness. And now – with all the rowdy gatecrashers gone home – my love remains in quiet triumph. The room is cleared of wreckage and the song we used to dance to plays softly in the newly calmed space; the sound of tenderness – uninterrupted after all.

The noisy drama of heartbreak, the messy entanglement of separation – it was temporary. But my love for you … did I not say it was forever?

Though I can number my faults in the thousands, I am grateful for my two lone virtues – for I have learned to give without asking and love just because.

So now I can breathe – and it is joy – and my heart is free at last to beat out the rhythm of your name without bleeding. The things I remember – they are music once more.

Be free, my angel – set the stars on fire.

And always know, whenever, wherever, no matter what – here in the beautiful corner – that light … that light … that light.

Love letter # 99

My friends think I’m mad – but really I’m just stripped. All the bullshit layers have been blasted away. All the smug, self satisfied, middle class, male posturing has been shown to be a lie. My so called strength – it was just the bravado of weakness.

There was a castle wall; it is now rubble. There was a front; it is now last year’s comedy.

When you looked at me like that, when you sighed that sigh, I was weak. I was free. I was pitched out of the aircraft.

Yes, I was out of control. I apologise – but I had never cared so much. Never been so irrational. So immediate. So alive.

When you were in the room I was all electric. All my control mechanisms failed. I was like the river – bound for the sea.

I know it seemed ridiculous – how do you think I felt? I don’t blame you for leaving – but God I wish you hadn’t.

I miss you tonight. The space where you would have been is filled with silence – so loud. Sometimes I am deafened by your absence.

A little voice inside me says I shouldn’t be writing this. But it helps to say it. Please forgive me. I only loved you.

And maybe that’s what this is all about. I know that beautiful words won’t get you back – even if I wish they would – but I refuse to yield to the standard issue bitterness. Your leaving is not a disqualifier. I love you because there is a beauty inside you – not just because I wish you were my girl.

My friends can say what they like. I know they mean well. But I will say only this: for you my love, almost anything.

Including silence.

Love letter # 9

Someone lit a match, brought a little flame to life. Was it you? Was it me?

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 with them. And from your casual touch … well, I cannot say.

I tried to let you know – if you would, I would. Now, an hour afterwards, I have no idea. That disobedient grin – were you … ?

I am literally shaking now – a once proud man made of hunger. I maybe delusional but I want you. If I could kiss that spot between your shoulder blades, if I could curl your fingers.

If only you were near enough to hear the whispers.

When I am done with this damned typing I will seek recourse in drink to drown this demon. It will put me to sleep and I will wake up tomorrow slightly fuzzy – but sane.

Unless of course I dream of you.

Love letter # 1

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 that despair becomes. It is the light that shines when you’re not here.

So maybe this is it – some kinda wild river. I know I promised not to mention it but a dumb wall cannot hold back such a beautiful rush. Right beneath my fingertips visceral, unreasoning, eternally narcotic glory is triumphing over text book ordinariness.

When I fell for you I was uplifted.

And your not being here, your not responding – it has done nothing to quiet that inspired song. I hear it in every silence. It sits behind my edifice of pretence; my pretending to be okay. It will not keep quiet and neither will I.

But you will get no cards. You will receive no flowers. I will not call you. I will not beseech you. I will become a figure of memory – someone you once knew.

But I will walk away singing.

For love that does not even whisper is wont to become poison in the veins – and I would rather have the golden light. Even if the price is a fire. Even if I lose the distinction between ecstasy and despair.

Why be mad for trinkets when you can be mad for angels?

Through some strange gate you found your way inside me. Your temporary tenderness kicked over the traces. The brakes stopped working – and in their place … flight.

Falling. Splendour and terror. A magnificent dissolution. An unexpurgated version.

This gift you accidently gave to me. Your warm ardour, your momentary faith in me – it changed the way I breathe. And my love for you suffuses everything to this minute. Even when I’m begging not to feel, even when the blood is sticky and my fingers are trembling, even as I drink to forget.

How can I be quiet when there is music in everything?

So here I am – blurting to the safe ether. Letting the dam burst wash me to the sea. I can tumble in that crazy deluge knowing that at least I’m getting somewhere.

See – much better to type it out than to fence it in.

Love is too vast for silence. An ocean too big for a teaspoon.

Love letter # 77

Bercasue 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 of you. Here I am, knowing more than myself at last, afraid and exhilarated, washed clean and re-dressed.

Yesterday I walked in the desert, thirsty and not even knowing it. Today I am here with you. This time the mirage kept its promise – and I am almost drunk for drinking.

I used beg for love – now I give it freely.

Everything – all my art, all my striving, every beautiful thing I try to make – they are all born of my love.

The old me would have laughed – but he’s not me anymore. Yes, I understand his objections – but yes, yes, yes my love … I do.