A Letter To You, From Love

A Letter To You, From Love

We often write love poems about others, but what if Love wrote its poem about you?

How can you come to love the world around yourself without finding the true beauty within your own walls?

We all have negative voices in our heads. We constantly worry about what others think, but the only opinion that truly matters is your own.

You're not alone in doubting yourself. It’s okay to not feel like you’re good enough, smart enough, or anything else. Everyone around you feels the same in one way or another, they may be at a different stage of that mutual feeling than you. In some way, it means that internally, you desire to strive to become even greater than the amazing person you already are.

You have to remember that you’re just not there YET. We're all still growing in our ways. Like the saying goes, “even a million steps begins with one,” it doesn’t mean that you’re not allowed to tumble down a few times before you get back up. Some days may be harder than others, but that makes the better days even more worthwhile.

I helped raise awareness over domestic abuse by creating the “Leave Out Violence Everywhere,” or “LOVE” project through student council my junior year of high school. My project highlighted the silent damage within dating violence, promoted self-worth, and ultimately encouraged others to speak out against domestic abuse. We educated our surroundings about dating abuse by posting informational posters around school. We created a “Beauty Week” when attempting our first Sadie Hawkins dance to encourage young women to step outside their comfort zone so they can be more comfortably courageous. I created a video where I interviewed a number of students and recorded their reaction after telling them they were beautiful and broadcasted it in school to encourage others to spread love rather than to destroy it.

Take a look: The video was inspired by Chicago High School's social experiment.

One thing that may be difficult to come by would be our self-valuing, how to love ourselves in the midst of our negative, chaotic minds. With low self-esteem, it’s easy to fall prey to the cycle of devaluing ourselves and not having the motivation to do anything meaningful to boost our own sense of worth. But you have to remember that even some of the most beautiful flowers bloom in the winter through the harshest of conditions.

This is not your typical love poem. This is a compilation from parts of two slam poems written by others that I butchered and smashed together to create “A Letter From Love.” This is for the moments when you feel like you need a little reminder that you should love yourself.

We often write love poems to others, but what if Love wrote its poem about you?

Roses are Red

Violets are Blue

Here’s a letter from Love

For all the reasons why you should love you.

Original Pieces: “To the Girl Who Works at Starbucks” by Rudy Francisco and “When Love Arrives” by Sarah Kay and Phil Kaye.

Dear You,

I came back just to look for You.

I imagine when God made you, he cussed for the first time.

He turned to an angel, gave him a high five, and said

‘God damn, I’m good.’

You’re that beautiful.

I spent the last five days

trying to figure out how I’m gonna introduce myself to you properly

and I think I finally figured it out.

It’s gonna be something like…


That’s all I got so far.

I’m not much of a love poet, but If I was,

I’d write about how I see your face in every cloudy reflection,

in every window.

I swear, if I was a love poet,

I’d write about how you have the audacity to be beautiful,

even on days when everything around you is ugly.

I’d write about your eyelashes,

and how they are like violin strings that play symphonies every time you blink.

I’d write about how I melt in front of you like an ice sculpture every time I hear the vibration in your voice.

I swear, I’m not much of a love poet,

but if I was to wake up tomorrow morning

and decide that I really wanted to write about love,

my first poem would be about you.

But I think it’s a good start.

In fact, every time I try to write about love,

my hands cramp, just to show me how painful love can be.

Sometimes, my pencils break,

just to prove to me that every now and then,

love takes a little more work than you planned.

You were a broken sunset with a lazy sky on your shoulders.

If you let me be sunlight,

I promise that I will penetrate your darkness until

you speak in angel ways.

Scratch your future into my back,

so I can be everything that you live for.

I promise that I will die for you daily,

and then resurrect in your screams.

I promise that I will love you.

I promise, that I will love you

as if it’s the only thing that I’ve ever done correctly.

You see, I’ve been trying to find the right words.

And I’ve been trying to take the right steps,

for what seems to me,

to be thousands of years

but something always seems to go wrong, between us.

You left and I didn’t see you again until I died.

I came back as a caterpillar.

I turned into a butterfly.

I laid in the palm of your hands.

You brushed me away.

But I came back just to look for you.

I left notes in random places

hoping that you would stumble across them.

I would spit your name in the wind,

hoping somehow, maybe someway,

my voice would reach you,

but it didn’t,

and I died.

I died early.

I died young with breadcrumbs, in my hand,

just hoping that you would find me,

but you never did,

so they buried me.

When they buried me,

they put these coins over my eyes,

and I used them as bus fare, to get back to Earth,

just so I could look for you.

That’s why, sometimes,

when we hold hands, every so often,

I tend to hold on a little too tight,

and I’m sorry.

I just don’t want to lose you again.

I will tell you, "You are beautiful"

And mean it

Over and over again

When you first wake up —

When you've just been crying —

When you don't wanna hear it —

When you don't believe it —

When nobody else will tell you,

I still think

You are beautiful...

Yours Sincerely,

my poems never actually end because true love is endless

Cover Image Credit: Nicole Ma

Popular Right Now

I'm A Woman And You Can't Convince Me Breastfeeding In Public Is OK In 2019

Sorry, not sorry.


Lately, I have seen so many people going off on social media about how people shouldn't be upset with mothers breastfeeding in public. You know what? I disagree.

There's a huge difference between being modest while breastfeeding and just being straight up careless, trashy and disrespectful to those around you. Why don't you try popping out a boob without a baby attached to it and see how long it takes for you to get arrested for public indecency? Strange how that works, right?

So many people talking about it bring up the point of how we shouldn't "sexualize" breastfeeding and seeing a woman's breasts while doing so. Actually, all of these people are missing the point. It's not sexual, it's just purely immodest and disrespectful.

If you see a girl in a shirt cut too low, you call her a slut. If you see a celebrity post a nude photo, you call them immodest and a terrible role model. What makes you think that pulling out a breast in the middle of public is different, regardless of what you're doing with it?

If I'm eating in a restaurant, I would be disgusted if the person at the table next to me had their bare feet out while they were eating. It's just not appropriate. Neither is pulling out your breast for the entire general public to see.

Nobody asked you to put a blanket over your kid's head to feed them. Nobody asked you to go feed them in a dirty bathroom. But you don't need to basically be topless to feed your kid. Growing up, I watched my mom feed my younger siblings in public. She never shied away from it, but the way she did it was always tasteful and never drew attention. She would cover herself up while doing it. She would make sure that nothing inappropriate could be seen. She was lowkey about it.

Mindblowing, right? Wait, you can actually breastfeed in public and not have to show everyone what you're doing? What a revolutionary idea!

There is nothing wrong with feeding your baby. It's something you need to do, it's a part of life. But there is definitely something wrong with thinking it's fine to expose yourself to the entire world while doing it. Nobody wants to see it. Nobody cares if you're feeding your kid. Nobody cares if you're trying to make some sort of weird "feminist" statement by showing them your boobs.

Cover up. Be modest. Be mindful. Be respectful. Don't want to see my boobs? Good, I don't want to see yours either. Hard to believe, I know.

Related Content

Connect with a generation
of new voices.

We are students, thinkers, influencers, and communities sharing our ideas with the world. Join our platform to create and discover content that actually matters to you.

Learn more Start Creating

Today Was A Bad Day, And That's OK

It's the little things that matter the most.


Today was a bad day.

I had a nightmare last night. It was so vivid and realistic. Some nightmares I can easily forget about, but this one was difficult to push out of my mind. I woke up in cold sweats, my heart was beating fast. I genuinely felt sick to my stomach. I wish I had never dreamt what I had dreamt. The nightmare really messed me up. It was all I had thought about for most of the day.

I couldn't focus on my school work. I definitely couldn't stay focused in class. I had a pop quiz that I was not prepared for, and there was already too much built-up stress from just the past two weeks. I felt like I couldn't go on with the rest of my day. To keep it somewhat short, things just weren't going my way. I was being too hard on myself and my anxiety was through the roof.

As dramatic as it may seem, this nightmare was too personal, too scary, too heartbreaking, and not too far-fetched. Words cannot explain how dark I had felt today. It brought me to a place I thought I had moved on from.

Today was a bad day, and that's okay.

I got a call from my dad and a text from my mom, both encouraging me to move forward and not stress. There was reassurance in my dad's voice and through my mother's words. Words reassuring me they would always be there for me and loved me.

I took a trip to Gino's with my roommates. That burger was hitting, onion rings and all. These were the "perks" of my day, and though they don't seem like a lot, it meant the world to me.

It truly is the little things that can make your day. Like a call from your daddy, a text from your mama, or a trip to one of your favorite burger spots with some friends. The littlest things help you put things into perspective. These little things came to me at a point where I genuinely really needed them.

These little things distracted me from the most terrible and scarring nightmare. These little things are the things that remind me to move forward, ever stronger. These little things are the things that remind me you can turn a bad day into a good day, but only if you allow this.

Today was a bad day and there's no doubt that I will have many more. That's okay, because it's about the little things that really matter.

Related Content

Facebook Comments