Love Letters—To Save or Not to Save?

What We Do With the Words They Leave Behind

Dear Reader,

What is a love letter?

Most of us think of them as the notes written at the start of a relationship—when two people take the time to spell out their feelings in a letter. What they love about each other. How they can’t wait to be together again. How their hearts are bursting at the seams. Often, poems are included. Hearts doodled in the margins.

It’s what happens when feelings meet paper—when the unsaid finally gets said.

There’s something special about pouring yourself onto the page. Sharing your deepest desires. There’s vulnerability in words. And for some, it’s easier to open up on paper than in person. (Just saying.) Whether writing them or receiving them, it’s the ultimate dopamine hit.

Do relationships still begin this way? I hope so. But I’d venture to guess love letters now arrive more often as a heart emoji via text.

And yet—for all the love poured into these letters, sometimes relationships end. And then the question becomes: what do you do with those letters?

There are those who save them. (I won’t name names. Fine—me.) And others who burn them. Two extremes. Two coping mechanisms. Neither one better than the other. It’s personal.

Some say burning love letters is symbolic—a ritual of release. A way to reclaim control and avoid reopening old wounds. It’s decisive. Final. Cathartic, even. These days, people simply “unfollow” their exes, or delete messages. No more shoeboxes stuffed with letters.

Whether you save them or burn them, love letters are more than just words. They’re proof of feelings. Of moments from our past. Of who we were when we loved—and were loved in return.

What is it about a letter from an ex that holds so much power? Is it the recognizable handwriting? The stationery they used? Maybe it’s the way a letter invites reflection—both when it’s written and long after it’s read.

As you know, I’ve saved most every letter I’ve ever received since 1978. And now, decades later, I sit on a trove of love letters—tender, messy, moving. Some make me smile. Some make me cringe. A few still make me cry. But all of them remind me that once, someone loved me enough to write it down.

So, in the spirit of remembering, here are two excerpts from two different exes—different people, different decades, different genders. Same twinge of memory when I read them.

I’m not suggesting we all hoard every handwritten note from our romantic pasts. But I do think there’s something sacred about holding someone’s words in your hands—words they once chose carefully, maybe nervously, maybe with hope.

A letter doesn’t just say “I love you.” It says: I took the time to show you. And sometimes, even after the love is gone, the letter is what lingers.

And sometimes, that proof is worth keeping.

With love (from one tender heart to another)

Felice

P.S. Are you in Camp Save or Camp Burn? Let me know!

TWO SONGS OF THE WEEK. (Yes, two! I had to narrow it down.)

Love Letters by Ketty Lester. (Thank you to Serena Candiani for telling me about this version!)

Love Letter by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds

Felice Cohen is an award-winning author, best known for squeezing big ideas into small spaces—like her 90-square-foot NYC apartment (yes, really). Her books include Half In: A Coming-of-Age Memoir of Forbidden Love, 90 Lessons for Living Large in 90 Square Feet, and What Papa Told Me, with praise from legends like Elie Wiesel and Rita Mae Brown. Her viral YouTube tour has racked up over 25 million views—mostly from people wondering where she kept her shoes. More at felicecohen.com.