✉ Waxsealed

How to write a love letter

Most people overthink this. You don't need to be a poet or a "good writer." You just need to be specific about one person. That's really it.

Start here, before you write a word

Grab a scrap of paper (or open your notes app, no one's judging) and scribble answers to these:

  1. What's one moment with them you keep replaying? It doesn't have to be dramatic. A Tuesday afternoon counts. The time they made you laugh so hard you couldn't breathe counts.
  2. What do they do that no one else seems to notice? Maybe they always refill the water jug before it's empty. Maybe they remember the name of every waiter.
  3. How do you want them to feel when they put this letter down?

Don't try to write well yet. Just dump it out. You'll find that most of your letter is hiding in those answers already.

A structure that works

You can rearrange this however you want. But if you're staring at a blank page, this order tends to flow pretty naturally.

1. Their name, then why you're writing

Skip "My dearest beloved." If you have a nickname only the two of you use, use that. Then say why you sat down to write. It can be simple.

Dear Sam,
I've been wanting to say this for a while, and I keep chickening out in person. So here it is, on paper, where I can't backtrack.

2. One memory, told like you're telling a friend

Pick a single scene. Don't summarize it — put yourself back in it. What were you eating? What was the weather? What did they say that stuck with you?

Remember the night the power went out in our first flat? You read the fuse box instructions out loud like you were performing Shakespeare, and I sat on the kitchen floor eating cold pizza and thinking: oh. This is the person.

3. What you love about them (be specific)

"You're amazing" is nice to hear in the moment but it doesn't stick. What sticks is something like "you make strangers feel like old friends, and I've watched you do it a hundred times without even trying." Pick two or three things. Give each one a scene or a reason.

4. Something you're looking forward to

A love letter shouldn't only look backwards. Mention something you want to do together — it doesn't need to be grand. "More Sunday mornings with nowhere to be" says plenty.

I want more of those Sundays where we don't set an alarm and end up reading in bed until noon. And someday I want to take you to the lake where I learned to swim — you'd love it there.

5. One last line, then sign off

Don't try to land a big finale. Just say what's true.

Thank you for picking me. Even on the hard days.
Always yours, J.

Opening lines to steal

Closing lines to steal

Examples for different moments

Valentine's Day

Happy Valentine's Day. I know we said no presents, so here: I still get nervous before I see you. I still save you the better half. And I still think the luckiest thing that ever happened to me was sitting next to you that night.

An anniversary

Five years ago today you told me my handwriting was terrible. You were right. You married me anyway. Here's to fifty more years of squinting at each other's terrible handwriting.

When they're far away

It's 2 a.m. here and the middle of your afternoon. I'm writing so that for a few minutes we're in the same moment, sort of. Twenty-three days. I'm counting.

After a rough patch

These last few months haven't been easy. I haven't been easy, either. I'm sorry for the nights I went quiet when I should have talked. I'm not going anywhere. I want to keep getting better at this.

Things that usually go wrong

  1. Copying a poem and calling it a day. A quote as a jumping-off point? Great. But the letter needs to be the part only you could have written.
  2. Making it secretly about yourself. Do a quick count: if "I" outnumbers "you" by a lot, rebalance.
  3. Sending your first draft. Write it, sleep on it, read it out loud the next morning. If anything makes you cringe, cut it.
  4. Burying the point. If you're apologizing, actually say "I'm sorry." If you're proposing, don't save it for the last line of page three.
  5. Worrying about length. Half a page of real things beats three pages of pretty sentences.

Paper or screen?

Handwritten, on nice paper, sealed with actual wax — that's hard to beat if you can hand it over in person or wait for the post. But sometimes the right moment is tonight, and they're 500 miles away. A digital letter can still feel like something to open, not just scroll past.

Write yours with Waxsealed

Pick your paper, choose the colour of the wax, write as much or as little as you need. Add a photo or a song if you want. You'll get a private link that opens as a real envelope — they turn it, break the seal, pull out the letter. It disappears after 72 hours, and you can lock it to one device or set a secret word.

Write a letter →