In ink and intimacy: The timeless art of writing a love letter  

I’m hopelessly old-school, and romantically, even more so. It makes navigating modern chaos, whilst still staying true to myself, tricky, at best. I believe that time spent with loved ones is the most precious gift we can give one another, treasure handwritten notes and value conversations that invite you to linger rather than hurry past. For me, the art of writing a love letter isn’t just the conventional idea between sweethearts. It’s just communication between two people who simply love each other—family, friends, lovers.

In an age of instant replies and disappearing messages, a love letter feels like rebellion. It asks for time and patience, and an endearing sort of vulnerability that cannot be edited or unsent. A love letter does not vanish after being seen; it stays. It watches the passing of time with you, it absorbs the scent of the room it was written in, the slight pressure of the hand that held the pen, the pause between thoughts when the heart overtook language. To receive a love letter is to be chosen slowly.

And perhaps that is why, even now, especially now, the love letter continues to enchant.

The first confessions

Long before love letters were sealed in envelopes or sent with friends, they were also a form of defiance. The earliest known love letters date back over 5,000 years, appearing in ancient Indian mythology. These were not casual notes of affection; they were often dangerous, sometimes forbidden, always intimate. One of the earliest and most enduring examples comes from the Bhagavata Purana, a 10th-century sacred Hindu text, in which Princess Rukmini writes to Lord Krishna, claiming him not only as her beloved but as her destiny.

Her letter is a declaration of longing so powerful it collapses the distance between mortal and divine:

“Oh, Most Beautiful One of all the Worlds, I heard about your qualities. For all who listen and whom you have entered through the openings of their ears, you thus remove the distress of their bodies. To those who have eyes, the sight of your beauty constitutes the complete fulfilment of their life’s purpose. Therefore, I have, without any shame, devoted my mind to you, Acyuta!”

What is striking is not only the devotion, but the sheer courage. She writes to be rescued from a marriage she doesn’t want, and expresses her desire for Him through language, making it both a confession and an invitation.

Love in the ancient world 

Across ancient civilisations, written declarations of love carried immense emotional weight. In Ancient Egypt, love songs from the Ramesside period (13th–12th centuries BCE) survive on papyrus: sensual, lyrical, and unabashedly emotional. In Imperial China, love letters were often bound by poetry and metaphor, written in a language of restraint that made longing even more exquisite. Meanwhile, in Ancient Rome, letters became an extension of rhetoric itself.

Few understood this better than Cicero, whose correspondence blended intellect with intimacy. To his third wife, Calpurnia, he wrote:

“Yet this only makes me feel your absence the more keenly, for if your letters have such a charm for me, you can imagine how sweet I find your conversation. However, do not fail to write as often as you can, even though your letters torture as well as delight me. Farewell.”

Here, love is not a soothing balm; it’s sharp with longing. This duality runs through the history of romantic correspondence: love letters are never neutral. They disturb the heart as much as they console it.

The age of chivalry 

Love letters as we know them today took shape during the early Renaissance. Love letters had become more formal, shaped by the ideals of courtly love. Knights wrote to ladies they might never touch. Desire was filtered through restraint, reverence, and ritual. Compliments were chaste, metaphors elaborate, and longing carefully contained. Yet, beneath the politeness pulsed intensity. The inability to speak freely made writing essential.

By the 18th century, this restraint began to soften. Love letters grew warmer, more personal, infused with tenderness and emotional candour. The private self emerged onto the page. Perhaps nowhere is the emotional necessity of love letters more evident than during wartime. Soldiers wrote from trenches, prisons, and ships, often unsure if they would ever return. These letters were lifelines, proof that love still existed in a fractured world. They were hurried, ink-blotted, sometimes unfinished. And yet, they carried a devotion so fierce it outlasted the violence surrounding it. To love through letters was to believe in a future one might never see.

Giants in love 

History often remembers its icons as untouchable, but love letters undo that illusion. One famous example is that of Napoleon Bonaparte, conqueror of Europe, who wrote obsessively to Joséphine, sometimes multiple times a day. His letters are raw, grandiose, and genuine. In March 1796, he confessed:

“I thought that I loved you months ago, but since my separation from you, I feel that I love you a thousandfold more. Each day since I knew you, have I adored you yet more and more.”

It is astonishing to read this from a man associated with power and conquest. The love letter strips him of armour. In its pages, Napoleon is simply a man undone by absence.

Another letter that captivates the imagination is Beethoven’s letter to his “Immortal Beloved.” Written in 1812 and never sent, the letter was found amongst his possessions after his death. The recipient remains unknown. The letter itself is feverish, tender, and aching with impossibility:

“Though still in bed, my thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved. Be calm–love me–today–yesterday–what tearful longings for you–you–you–my life–my all–farewell. Oh, continue to love me–never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved.”

“Ever thine. Ever mine. Ever ours.”

By the 20th century, love letters had shed formality altogether. They became unhindered,  intimate, and confessional. Zelda Fitzgerald’s letters to F. Scott Fitzgerald shimmer with emotional excess and lyric abandon. In one letter, she writes:

“Darling–I love these velvet nights. I’ve never been able to decide whether the night was a bitter enemie or a ‘grand patron’–or whether I love you most in the eternal classic half-lights where it blends with day or in the full religious fan-fare of mid-night or perhaps in the lux of noon. Anyway, I love you most, and you phoned me just because you phoned me tonight–I walked on those telephone wires for two hours after holding your love like a parasol to balance me. My dear–”

Franz Kafka’s letters to Milena Jesenská, written between 1920 and 1923, reveal a different intimacy: fraught, anxious, existential. Kafka uses letters as a bridge across fear and distance. In one devastating line, he writes:

“I'm tired, can't think of anything and want only to lay my face in your lap, feel your hand on my head and remain like that for through all eternity.”

Why love letters matter more than ever 

Today, we text constantly and react quickly. Digital communication is efficient, but efficiency has never been romance’s goal. A love letter demands presence. You cannot write one absentmindedly. You must sit with your feelings long enough to articulate them. To write a love letter today is to say: you are worth my time, my thought, my vulnerability.

It is a luxury precisely because it is rare. The romance of receiving a letter is exquisite: you feel profoundly seen. Someone has observed your effect on them and translated it into language. They have paused their life long enough to hold you in their mind.

How to write a love letter of your own  

Writing a love letter today is not about rejecting modern romance; instead, it’s about deepening it. It says: I see you clearly enough to sit with my feelings, and I respect you enough to articulate them slowly.

In today’s era of read receipts, disappearing messages, and affection reduced to reaction emojis, choosing to write a love letter is beautiful. Here’s how to write one that feels like it’s a reflection of your heart:

Begin with stillness, not performance

When you sit to write, don’t ask yourself what sounds romantic, but what feels true. Modern love letters are less about grand declarations and more about emotional accuracy. You don’t need to summon poetry. Think about how they really make you feel, and then write with candour. There’s no right or wrong, there’s only honesty.

Anchor it in true moments

Your love language and how you express it are your very own. Be it shared travel, dreams or conversations, referencing them roots your feelings in details, making it all the more special.  

Use language that belongs to you

This is not the place for borrowed phrases or recycled romance. The person you are writing to fell in love with you: your rhythm, your way of seeing the world. Write how you speak when you’re most sincere. Love letters should sound like a confession, not a quotation. 

Love letters endure because love itself longs to be remembered. They outlive relationships, wars, lifetimes. They become artefacts of emotion—proof that once, someone felt deeply, and chose to write it down.

Lead image: Getty 

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