Poetry by Rowan Evans

Author’s Note

Some confessions are too tender to say aloud. Sometimes the ink knows them before the voice does.

Confessions in Ink
Poetry by Rowan Evans

I sit with words
trembling at the tip of my tongue—
confessions I can’t speak,
so I let the ink speak for me.

Like—I love…

the way you say my name,
the sound of your laugh,
that little giggle
when a joke just lands.
Or—
how you make me feel safe
enough to be myself—
completely.

And how you changed
the way I see myself.
I used to think
I wanted to be someone else—
anyone else.
But now I don’t.
Now I just want to be me—
the me I am with you,
the me that dreams of
living in your world,
learning the shape of your tongue.

It’s kind of crazy—
the way you changed me.
Because when I used to feel like this,
I ran.
But now I stay.

You make me want to stay.
You make it easy to want to stay.

And there is so much more…

Maybe one day
I’ll find the courage
to speak it out loud.
But for now—
I’ll let the ink speak—for me.

For more shadows and whispers, visit the Library of Ashes archive.