The infinite possibilities of this empty white page haunt me like forgotten childhood memories. Words can never do justice to feelings. Every single atom in my anatomy boils and evaborates into raw desire at the mere thought of being present in your wake. When I'm inside you my brain melts like vanilla ice cream in a grease-covered frying pan, the thoughtless animalistic instinct murders my self-awareness with the passion of true romance. The whole universe could end without us and I'd be too happy and high to notice or even care. I open a vein and sign my love for you in cold-blood. Inhale you like cigarette smoke, drink you like vodka from a champange glass. Scream your name into the void as we rock the down-and-dirty. Huddled together on the edge of life as to not take up too much room, we sit through local up-and-coming music shows and poetry readings, soaking up self-indulgence like human sponges. Artists, writers, musicians, drug addicts and drifters, all our people. Stand with the herbavores of the day, run with the carnivores of the night. We're gods, animals, lovers, forever and always.

Two possibilities to the reaction to this letter, she'll either think you are a fucking crazy stalker, or she'll be giving you a blow job after reading it.

It's pretty good, man. And if it were some parody of a love letter published in EYW I'd give you mad props.
But practically as a love letter it's a little too verbose. There are some really dirty analogies in there that are far from romantic. It doesn't really have any form to it.
There are things in there that scream I'm trying to be clever, rather than being genuine.

As prose it's got definite potential, but I'm not sure if it fits the bill as a love letter.
Hell, I don't know your girlfriend, you might be spot on. I'll look forward to seeing future revisions!!

Is this a love letter, or an erotic letter?

Love letters should be suave, sensual, slow, and passionate.

This reads quickly, uses some gruesome metaphor, and seems much more physical than emotional/spiritual.

Edit: I'll post a love letter I wrote as an example. I don't suggest even a fifth of what I wrote in it though, unless the relationship is quite committed.

(omit),

I am lost without you by my side; my stride is staggered and my spirit battered. It is you, I need, to aid my soul. It is you, I hunger, to make me whole. Many times have I sat broken in the shadows, lurking through murky thoughts of self-doubt and confusion. Limbic contusions cause my body to ache for your companionship; for you I bleed, and for you I would spill blood.

Abuse me, use me, defeat my spirit in any way you wish; destroy any reverence of your name contained in the utterances that escape my lips...I will still love you from the deepest recesses of my soul. Crush me and kill me if it makes you whole! You are my heart's purest desire; my love for you will burn eternal as Olympus' pyre.

In all your worries, if you still smile at the thought of joining me to sojourn a mile...if in all your worries, and the confusion I have given to thee, you can still look upon me with glee, your eyes glimmering with even the faintest of hopes, bind my heart to yours with Cronos' ropes.

I love you so, (omit)! And so I thought, in my gravest hour, to free you of the parasite I made myself to be, and this world of me too; lo, I was but a fool! To see the terror I brought to you...it shattered what love I still had for myself! Regret tore through me, and I hated myself. I hated the shades I covered my eyes with, to blind myself from the agony I would impart to you. Forgive me, for I am but a fool! A child! A damned and wretched man whose actions betrayed his own heart! Forgive me, I beg of you!

(omit): I love you. I have fallen from my proud mountain top to grovel in your presence. I lust for your heart to bleed for me as mine has for yours - your love is my one desire, and I pray, knowing it is undeserved, that you accept my love for you as true. My path faltered and betrayed my heart, but nonetheless, without you I am but a part...a fragment of what I should be, a fragment of what I could.

-Adam

Like the other guys said, it's a bit... hard? But I love it. The dirty metaphors/similes you use take that cheesy love letter sound—which I really dislike— away. This one's really going to have to depend on your girl though. If you know her really well and you wrote this to her with her personality in mind, I'm sure it will go over well.
If you've not been together long, you don't know her as well as you think you do, or you wrote it to try and show off your clever words and similes instead of trying to play on her personality and emotions; then I think you may be in some serious trouble.

I thought it was stupid. I don't really have any constructive criticism. Just criticism.

Amateurs... You need to relate to HER. Your analogies seem kind of harsh. "When I'm inside you my brain melts like vanilla ice cream in a grease-covered frying pan," When you're inside her!? That's creepy, dude.

It depends on the purpose of the love letter; mine was written as an apology.

The typical is written to romance the woman, in which case yes, continual relation between the two of you are necessary.

mm, bit rambly.
i had a good one once, it was like 2/3 length of the op's and inside a neat card type thingy. it wasn't waffly or fancy, just well written and sweet, and actually referred to me- not artists, druggies and wrist slitting.
definitely ditch the blood bit

Edit: Keep in mind, I just woke up. Bad grammer, spelling errors, ect.

Well, I guess I should have clarified a bit more as to my current situation with this girl. We've been together for 5 months, we're in love or lust or whatever it's called when you have real feelings for someone, and in that short time we've had rough sex countless times. We've done it all, strangulation, bondage, mutilation, oral and anal, covered in sweat with her telling me to rape her. I'm not a physcopath and she's not a slut, we're both just very personally twisted and sadistic when it comes to sex and violence. So, back to the letter, I have been writing alot lately and showing her my work, and she has been painting and showing me her work, and after spending the entire day in bed drinking wine and smoking cigarettes, we decided that I was going to write a paper for her on sex, and she was going to paint me a vaginal picture with bright colors. So, in short, the above is what I have so far, and I'm sorta feeling the effects of writers block...I don't need any advise, because it'll come with time, but yeah, just wanted criticism as just a rough draft.

Also, for refferance, here is a link to some writing a did the night before last about being in a bathtub. It should give you a sense of my writing style, lots of anologies and metaphores, and anyone feel free to give advise as to what I should add into this letter:

https://www.totse.com/community/showthread.php?t=1988309

How old is your gf? And have you done anything similar before?

She is 15, and I'm 17. I wrote her something similar on Valetine's Day, she loved it.

Day 1
Phase 1
Chapter 1
Choose your prefferance.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007

I am just as much a part of the now as the now is a part of me. We are one. Equals in our resolve to just, exist. If each passing second is the now, that means that the present is one constantly changing moment and that time only exists as a ratio, not a dimension. I watch in unfathomable horror as seconds turn to minutes, minutes to hours, to days, to years, all a delusion. Cities that never sleep, dreams that crash and burn, the non-stop now. My entire life words have simplified existential complexities and sheltered me from the reality of confusion. I envy the consciencness of animals. In my dreams, I'm a wild animal lost in the moment, feasting on a fresh kill, oh, the thrill of the kill. It brings out the worst in me, the best in me, the god and the beast in me. Crushing an ant between two fingers and visualising it's mircoscopic insides compressing against eachother until finally the heart bursts, the brain spasms, and with it's last tiny little breath it curses my existance by vomiting it's guts out onto my pores. I absorb the liquid through my skin, harvest it's nutrients, and so goes the natural cycle of life. To be honest, absorbtion is the only form of reincarnation that I openly embrace. By sacrificing the ant to the highier power that is me, I'm actually devouring it's soul, which is what it subconsciencely wanted anyway, to be absorbed and thus become all powerful. In my dreams, I drop the atom bomb on NYC, vaporizing millions of innocents in a split-second, like pouring hydrocloric acid into an ant hill. Perfection through unnautral selection. Pleasure through pain. Love through hate. In my nightmares there is god, nailed to the cruxifix and begging for the end to come. I am the anti-christ, and with a bullet to the face I willingly crush the spirit of the religious man. He represents all the ugliness in this world that make my dreams impossible. Ignorance is his motto, work is his pleasure. "Baaaa," says the metropolitan slave. "Baaaa," says the god-fearing Christian. "Baaaa," says the impressionable new-born. Well, this shepard is locked and loaded, this wolf is ready to cull the herd. Shell after shell bounce off the pavement as I satisfy my lust for the stink of death, for the taste of virgin tears, for the sounds of silence. Forged from steel, iron will, shit for brains, born to kill. I imagine humanity as a festering mass of fecal waste, being pushed through a vaginal wound. I visualise it moving at the speed of a slug which is lost in a concrete jungle, on a boiling hot day. I want to swallow a shotgun shell for breafast, my brains being blown out into the stratosphere, but that would be the easy way about and I'm going out hard no matter what happens. Hard like the solid iron in the center of a black hole, hard like the nipples on a slut in a snowstorm. I haven't slept in relatively 35 hours, but I can't go to sleep, today is a new day and without sleep it will meld into tomorrow. The pursuit of pleasure through materialistic self-denial and mental self-indulgence began when I woke up yesterday morning, and it won't stop until I crash, 7 days from now, on Valentine's Day. Wish me luck, *******. I love you.