Dear Boots,

You are strapped in and strapped on, holding tight to the teathered ground you thought you left behind. Oh you thought they were made for walking but like prey, that hawk is stalking.

Boots you know what to do in the dust of the wind and you’ve also had the taste of strutting the line at the base of the river that runs deep. Climbing and climbing not knowing this mountain was so steep, when will you finally reach its peak?

Boots you are not worn down, you are not warped like the soil lands you have found. You were made to run, to dance and take a stance because you smell of new leather, you just haven’t allowed the right home where you “have to break them in.”

Break them curses, break them rules, break that damn ruins that put dirt on your steel toe boots. Break them in all right, break down barriers and Boots I’m telling you, put up that fight.

Make yourself shiny and new. Find that place that makes you feel abundantly clean and renewed. Boots love yourself the way you love the paths you walk because you are undeniably a Rios of Mercedes that can’t be found like a boot that makes themselves available on every block.

The View

Wow, it’s insane how the world looks at you .
Do you think you’ll be enough for maybe one or two.
Is it too much to ask to see you just more than once?
I can’t imagine what you have to go through inside to present yourself
These people must be dunce if they don’t want you.

I love opening the door and smelling your scent
The smell is on my pillow from having you close to me
If I have you too much, I might have to repent

I’m super lucky to have you all to myself
I’m not selfish, but with you, I have to be .
You’re so fit, dark like chocolate, juicy meat on your body.
I rather have you any day over a plate of shellfish.

Do you know when I fell in love with you?
I fell in love with you as a child.
I took one look at you and said “you’re going to be all mine “and that’s true.
I couldn’t wait to become an adult and see how you grew. How you flourished.
I love you even more as an adult.
Who would have known.

People fight over you all the time.
I can’t blame them.
You pair so well with a glass of wine.
I love seeing you come out, and it’s actual steam coming out of you because you’re so dam hot !
You’re beautiful, soft and well matured.
You’re moist and refreshing and the best cure.

The scent of cloves as you walk by
The smile on my face when I see you.
When we are in a restaurant, and I’m with my friends, I count the minutes to see your sexy blend.

You sit well on top of colored grains
My heart can’t take it anymore.
I’m going to go insane.
As you come over to me, I lose everything in my brain.
Is this what actual love feels like?

I enjoy you, I love you, and I can’t get enough of the view.

I have to have you
I’m sure you do too.
Look at you!
Look at that view!
Oxtails, rice and peas with plantains too!

Oh, how I love to daydream

Because you sleep when the sun is out

That’s the only way to see you

Until the bright beams have gone down

But

When you wake

What a sight for the stars in the evening sky

You captivate me with your beauty

I have confessed my deepest fears to you

So serene and complex

There is no doubt

My exquisite moon

In every phase of your life

I adore you

Oh, my sweetest love, my eternal muse,
Poetry and song, you are the rhythm of my soul,
The melody that cradles my spirit,
The words that dance upon my lips when my heart overflows.

I was just a little girl when I first found you,
Running wild, singing at the top of my lungs,
Pouring my joy into the air,
As if the world was listening, as if it understood.

At night, after whispered prayers,
I sang to the unseen, to the One who placed you within me.
With every note, every verse,
I reached for something greater,
Something infinite, something divine.

You have never left me.
You have been my sanctuary in sorrow,
My fire in silence, my courage in doubt.
When my voice shook, you steadied it.
When my hands trembled, you guided them to the page.
Through every storm, you have been my refuge,
Through every loss, my salvation.

I love you with a passion that words cannot hold.
You are the song in my laughter, the poetry in my tears.
With you, I am free—
Unchained, unbreakable, infinite.

And as long as I have breath,
I will sing. I will write.
I will love you until the end of time.

Your perky aroma pops me out of bed
Preventing stabby headaches in my head

I get to work each day on time
Before the late bell dares to chime

And with your spunky caffeine kick
I rarely, if ever, call in sick

On days my nerves are worn and frail
You’re there to comfort without fail

Hot, roasted beans all warm and toasty
Reminding me I love you the mosty

The one who knows me, when I am asleep- Also knows whom I love when he comes to bed.

I love you bed for keeping all my secrets, and even some of my fantasies.

I love you bed for holding me tight- deep into the nights- when no one else will.

I love you bed for comforting me, and keeping me warm- long after my lover has gone!

I love you bed for never speaking ill of me, when you’ve seen me both clothed and unclothed.

I love you bed for the deep connection of protection- you hold for me. That you’ll never desert me in times of need and un-repose. You stay waiting all tidy and made, until I am tired and ready for you to hold me again.

No matter the linen- you are a steady and stabilizing force in my life.

I love you so my dear bed- for keeping your promises to guard me at night. You even know whom else I love besides you and why!

All my loves come to visit you, and you never get jealous or vengeful- but hold us all so dear and close.

You are a Queen Ann bed with high standards and pillars, the comfort that gives knows no bounds.

Please do stay strong and sturdy, and holding all my secrets. I’ll love you forever me dear dear bed!!

If there are four elements, you are my fifth.
Somewhere between the earth, fire, water, and air,
You are the salt that makes everything better.
You fill my empty spaces and surpass limitations.
You are the substance that cradles the stars.
You are the essence that holds the heavenly bodies.
Even the planets would call you perfect.
You could heal and cure and outsmart time.
My “quinta essentia” and the best of your kind.
I look at you and only see God’s handiwork.

Style Score: 100%

As I remember praying is one of my lovely passions in life, praying have been part of my daily routine, and I love the fact that I can do it anywhere, at any time, for any occasion, for different purposes, I love to pray because for me is a connection with God.

I love to pray because it is a disconnection from this stressful world and it is my space to unwind and practice something meaningful that warms up my faith, spirituality and gives me strength to continue fighting in my daily life.

If I had to choose one thing that I love to do among the other things, it still be of course pray, I can’t live without praying, because gives my daily portion of love, compassion and faith.

I am glad to have the privilege of being considered a praying woman. I have a profound praying spirit because my passion for praying is unlimited. I never be tired of praying because it is my peace when I feel stressed, confused, sad, angry or lost; praying solves my problems; God put in the work for me and give me the wise solution to my situation.

I love to pray because through praying; I give to God the responsibility to solve my issues in his great wisdom. I love to pray because gives me a sense of purpose and through praying I can find my divine calling.

I love to pray because I can pray for others in need; and the best part, I do not need to be present with them to pray; I can do it by myself in my space and still make a difference in their lives.

Dear Unsealers:

I start each day with something brewing. Literally.

I rip open the bag of tea and pour the hot water in my cup. As the cup steeps, the aromas reach my nose. Scents of Jasmine, Bergamot and Peppermint take hold. I open the box of tea and see so many options, with bags having a specific color assigned to them. It’s like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, right down to the black and gold embossing on the Harney and Son’s box.

But the cup of tea matters to me more than just simply having something warm in my body on wintry days.

In each cup of tea that I brew, I feel a sense of peace. I do not get started on the litany of reschedule case requests until I finish my cup of tea at my desk. Otherwise, it’s the sign to everyone that I’m taking a moment for myself.

The cup of tea, as is, is enough for me. I don’t add milk, cream or sugar to it. I don’t make it sweet, except for a drop or two of honey.

Having tea as a part of my day goes back a long way.

From my college days, when I would pop into the Starbucks around the corner from John Jay College’s campus to order a cup before class began. To my first taste of my favorite type of tea, Jasmine Green during afternoon tea at the Athenaeum Hotel in London in October 2012. At my previous job, I would go to markets and bodegas to bring in multiple boxes of tea to have a range of options over the course of the work week. This ritual lasted for my eight years of employment there.

The cup of tea has made a comeback in recent days. From spending my birthday last December being with pots of tea at the Warren Street Hotel. To the boxes of tea from Palais des Thés that my friend Umara gifted me for my birthday and Christmas gifts. The Advent Calendar had a bag of tea for every day that led up to Christmas Eve. The green and gold box added a dose of holiday spirit to my desk each morning.

I’m so grateful that I decided to re-introduce this ritual to my morning routine.

I need to find my moments of peace when I can in this hectic world that we live in. Having a cup of tea in the morning helps toward that goal.

Martial Arts. I’m not sure if I have mentioned this lately, but you mean absolutely everything to me.

As well as for many others, ever since I was a young child, you have always drawn me in. My love for you has only grown. Flourished honestly, and continues to do so.

I have prepared for much of life through your lessons. How to be relaxed, yet focused. To be confident, yet humble. When it is necessary to apply whichever trait needed. How to adapt, then flow. You supply a sensation no other activity or interest could replicate… at least for me.

When I am in motion, I feel whole. As if I am gliding. I tune and sync my entire being. To be a demonstration of the most sacred dance. A participant in the most serious play.

You are where I belong, where I feel at home. Regardless of any other interest I have or skill I have developed, you are my core. You resonate in my being. As a child, teenager, young man, and perhaps now more than ever, when I envision myself, I see you. You are who I am and always wanted to be. Thank you for always helping me find myself. For teaching me how to strengthen and defend my mind, body, and soul.

SO…. From the DEEPEST, PUREST, MOST GRACIOUS PART OF MY SOUL! Thank You So Much! Thank you for always being here.

With only Love, Respect, & Gratitude

From your Eternal Disciple,

Daniel Gualajara

Style Score: 100%

What’s “Love at first sight” for me, you wonder?
It’s the sight of seeing “the lineup” to my favorite musician.
It’s the squeal of “they’re coming to our town” heard across the room.
It’s the desire of “oh my gosh. I need to buy tickets.”
It’s the sensation of “tickets purchased” throughout the nervous system.
It’s the “can’t sleep” process the night before.
It’s the “day of” adrenaline rush that’s used as motivation to make the day go “faster.”
It’s the “beep” of ticket being scanned to enter the arena.
It’s the “look around of approval” that the night is going to be a good night.
It’s the “stop mid performance” to take every ounce of appreciation into vein.
It’s the “this is my song” moment that captures the mood of the night.
It’s the “adoration” of everyone singing just as loud as the person next to them.
It’s the “angelic sight” when everyone is just as relaxed as you are.
It’s the “heartache of knowing” the last song of the night was just sung.
It’s the “gratitude of the night” knowing it was a success.
It’s the “concert hangover” the next morning when reality sets back in.
It’s the “can not wait till next show” blues that settle in until the next show!

Style Score: 100%

My dearest words,

How could I ever thank you enough? You have been my most loyal companion, my truest confidant. With you, I shape my thoughts, unravel my emotions, and scatter pieces of myself across pages for the world to see.

I love the way you reveal my heart without hesitation, how you dance across paper in black and white yet bring a world of color to those who read you. I love how you whisper, shout, and sing—how you weave together moments, memories, and meaning with nothing more than letters strung in perfect harmony.

You demand attention not through force, but through feeling. You linger in minds, stir souls, and invite others to pause, to listen, to understand. You are the bridge between who I am and who I long to be—the echo of my voice when I cannot speak, the story I tell even when I don’t know the ending.

With every stroke of ink, every tap of a key, you allow me to express the inexpressible, to bring my inner world into the light. You are my power, my refuge, my way of making sense of it all.

And so, I love you. With every thought, every emotion, and every piece of myself I give to you, I love you.

Forever yours,
A writer in love with words

style score is 100%

Dear Anger,

I’ve been dishonest in my feelings for too long. I couldn’t stop loving you even if I tried. The level of intimacy that we share is unrivaled. My body knows you’ve arrived long before my brain does. You cause my hands to feel weightless as you cradle them warmly. Your voice is a melody that my ears never tire of. The taste of you spreads across my tongue into every crevice of my mouth. I can feel your spirit like a firecracker within my chest, threatening to make me come undone. When I breathe, I inhale your scent and exhale your passion. You challenge me in ways that I never dreamed possible. When I shirk and shy away from confrontation, your ardent embrace entices me to demand better. When I’m at a loss for words, you grant me yours, even if just for a moment. Your presence is commanding and frightening, and yet I wouldn’t know how to live without it. When something is unjust, it is you that calls for change. It’s one of my favorite things about you. I have to admit that you’re always on my mind, even when you probably shouldn’t be. I think of you in traffic, at work, and especially when I’m watching the news. More than anything, you push me to live my life outside of the bubble we share. You don’t feed into my codependent tendencies; instead, you motivate me to fight against them. You challenge me to consider all the options that I could pursue without you, even though we both know you’re always there for me when I need you. It’s comforting to know that even in my darkest moments, I can rely on your fiery spirit to brighten my path. You are my one true love. Everything I feel, I feel it because of you. You are difficult to love. Most people find you difficult to be around. You can be impatient, vulgar, and rude on your worst days. I’ve grown fond of calling you my unlovable lover in conversation. Sometimes I wish I didn’t love you because maybe then life would be a little easier, a little quieter, a little smaller. But you constantly remind me that love should be hard, loud, and large. I can’t promise much in this life, but I can promise you this; I will fight for your love every day the same way you fight for me. I love you, and I only hope everyone experiences the love I’ve been fortunate enough to share with you.

Your lover,

Makayla Judge

Style Score: 100%

Love it

Since the moment i saw you i fell in love
The age of 5 is where my mind goes watching All that at nick at night
At the age of 7-8 i would watch more channels and just couldn’t get my eyes off of the food channel
“bam ,bam” is the words i heard and the audience clapping right after it
Right before a commercial the show band will play doc gibs
It was chef Emeril lagasse i could not stop watching
He made me fall in love with the kitchen
Influencing my young self to make my first scrambled egg all by myself
Even though i was afraid of fire i still tackled that stove on medium low for a few minutes to cook the eggs
Food and music is a universal language on any occasion it soothes your soul from a birthday or attending a funeral
It is cold comfort food fro a reason
Learning that we have some many spices and seasonings other than salt and pepper
I would later on learn how to cook selfish ,chicken and other protein and just be so proud of myself
Impressing my mom and grandma with my dishes at a young age was the biggest pride
They can leave me alone at home and i will be fine i could cook for myself and sibling if i have to
My biggest pass time is in the kitchen whether it is with family or just trying out new dishes
Cooking is the coolest and most fun way to not only bond with someone but get to know their culture and likes /dislikes

My Dearest Cancer,

When I saw the prompt for this competition—Write a love letter to something, not someone—I knew immediately what I would choose. And I knew it would be controversial. A love letter to cancer? To the harbinger of suffering, the thief of time, the unwelcome guest in so many bodies? It’s a touchy subject, raw and untouchable for many, but for me, meeting you has been a love story—as odd as that may sound.

Not the kind that sweeps you off your feet, but the kind that guts you open, that forces you to see yourself in ways you never dared. You arrived without invitation, burrowing into the most private parts of me—my asshole, of all places—demanding attention, forcing my hand. If nothing else, you’ve got a sense of humor. At first, I braced for war. That’s what everyone told me to do—fight it, beat it, don’t let it win. But I have never been one to follow convention, or accept an easy narrative.

And I found something unexpected.

You became my permission slip. To grieve unapologetically. To cry without restraint, to let others witness my sorrow instead of tucking it away in the polite folds of I’m fine. You made my grief legible in a way my mother’s suicide and my father’s dementia never did. When I lost them, I learned how to disappear into my pain, how to mask my devastation in ways that made others comfortable. But you? You made it impossible to hide. You turned my suffering inside out, made it visible. And people—finally—saw me. They didn’t look away. They sat with me, showed up, and held space for my sorrow in ways I never allowed them to before.

You made my life urgent in a way that only cancer can, forcing me to take inventory of every choice, breath, and heartbeat. What is worth my time? Who do I love? How do I want to spend this one wild, unpredictable life?

I never wanted to beat you, not in the way others do. How could I fight something that has given me so much? Instead, I want to sit with and learn from you. You are the manifestation of all I have endured—trauma that settled into my bones, choices that I made with my body before I understood what they meant. You are not some foreign invader; you are a part of me, shaped by my past, by everything that has ever happened to me. And if I am to heal, I must first love you. Accept you.

You’ve made me take chances. Cracked me open a second time, made me braver, softer, more compassionate. You have shown me the art of forgiveness—not just for others, but for myself. You have sharpened my hunger for life, not in the vague, theoretical sense, but in the way my hands now linger on warm skin, the way I savor the taste of food, the way my laughter rises unrestrained, the way I say I love you first, without fear of how it lands.

You have given me the courage to write again. To pull my stories from the marrow of my experience and lay them bare. Without you, I might never have let my voice slip into the world in the way it was meant to. And maybe that is what you were always meant to do—not to silence me, but to make me louder.

And when you leave, as I hope you will, I will carry the lessons you’ve etched into me. I will cradle the urgency, clarity, and appreciation you’ve awakened. I’ll remember how you taught me to live as if every breath is borrowed, every sunrise a rare gift, every touch a tether to the divine.

I know someday we will have to part. You will fade, and I will go on. But there’s a small part of me that wants to hold onto the urgency you have given, the sharpened awareness of how precious, fleeting—miraculous my existence is.

And while I may have embraced you, I will not become your sycophant. I do not want to love you so much that I let you consume me. I will not bow to you or glorify you beyond your purpose. You have been my teacher, my reckoning, my reminder. But I won’t let you write the ending.

After all, all is fair in love and war—and I have chosen love.

You haven’t merely helped me answer the question of whether I want to live. You have shown me what it means to truly live. And when I think of you in the quiet of my solitude, I won’t curse your name but instead whisper a soft thank you.

And for that, for all of it, I love you.

With gratitude,
Rachel

(PRO WRITING AID STYLE SCORE 91%)