Sometimes it’s strawberries, questionable scientific reasoning, and the absolute confidence to say, “Deal with it.”
This piece is a little love poem for the people who show affection in their own weird, imperfect, slightly ridiculous way.
— Rowan Evans
When roses won’t do, bring strawberries. Romance is all about knowing what they like.
It Could Have Been… Poetry by Rowan Evans
I know you don’t like roses— so I brought you a bouquet of strawberries— they’re the same thing, scientifically— maybe not exactly, but they come from the same family—
it’s still romantic. Deal with it.
Oh, and hey— it could have been apples.
It could have been…
Peaches, Pears, Raspberries, Cherries…
heck…
a bag of almonds…
but I gave the one that still feels—
like romance.
Journey into the Hexverse
[Welcome to the Hexverse] Step into the Hexverse—a poetic world where mythmaking, humor, rage, creativity, and confession collide, and darkness becomes something that can be reshaped into art.
Others arrive because a single sentence refuses to leave.
This was one of those.
The poem began when I remembered a conversation. A joke, really. Someone once described themselves as being “like a drug” and we laughed about it. At the time, it felt playful, exaggerated, harmless.
But memory has a way of revisiting things from a different angle.
When I thought about that conversation later, I realized what interested me wasn’t the comparison itself. It was the experience of slowly realizing that someone has become part of your everyday thoughts without you noticing exactly when it happened.
One day they’re simply someone you know.
Then they’re someone you think about.
Then they’re someone who quietly occupies space in your mind when nothing else is demanding your attention.
The drug metaphor gave me a doorway into the poem, but it isn’t really what the poem is about.
It’s about affection.
It’s about attachment.
It’s about the strange vulnerability of admitting that someone matters.
More than that, it’s about the difference between being needed and being wanted.
Need can feel transactional.
Want feels chosen.
The final lines became the emotional center for me because they capture a hope I think many people carry but rarely say aloud:
Not that someone has to stay.
Not that someone owes us their attention.
Just that maybe, if given the choice, they would choose us too.
Like a lot of my recent work, humor and metaphor show up first. They’re familiar territory. They’re comfortable. They make difficult things easier to approach.
But beneath the jokes, the poem is doing what many of my poems eventually do.
It’s confessing.
— Rowan Evans
Sometimes affection arrives quietly—slipping into your thoughts until you realize someone has become part of your everyday world. ✨
Maybe You’ll Want Me Too Poetry by Rowan Evans
I remember when you said—
you are like a drug.
It was all laughs
about your exes being hooked,
still shook by the thoughts of you.
But I was getting second-hand
contact highs—
now I feel addicted too.
It’s like you’re in my bloodstream.
You’ve rewired my brain,
rebalanced the chemical compounds—
you’re in nearly every single thought now.
I try to hide it behind metaphors
and jokes—an attempt to mask
the fragile hope—
that you won’t need me,
but maybe you’ll want me too.
Journey into the Hexverse…
[Recognizes Home] A free-verse poem exploring the difference between love as dependency and love as choice. It challenges the idea that love must be need-based, instead centering the quiet strength of choosing someone while still remaining whole on your own.
[Not Rebuilding You] A poem about love as an act of presence rather than rescue. Through construction imagery, Not Rebuilding You explores trust, devotion, emotional safety, and the quiet work of building a foundation strong enough for healing to grow.
[The Language Her Soul Speaks] What if love isn’t about being understood, but learning to understand someone else? “The Language Her Soul Speaks” is a free verse poem about intimacy, communication, curiosity, and the desire to know another person beyond the limits of language.
[Ocean Waves (1, 4, 3)] A moonlit shoreline, a rowboat full of ducks, a piggybank with no cents, and a confession hidden in plain sight. Ocean Waves (1, 4, 3) explores how humor, wordplay, and absurdity can become a side door to vulnerability when the truth feels too difficult to say directly.
[L Words & Heart] A moonlit shoreline, a rowboat full of ducks, a piggybank with no cents, and a confession hidden in plain sight. Ocean Waves (1, 4, 3) explores how humor, wordplay, and absurdity can become a side door to vulnerability when the truth feels too difficult to say directly.
This is one of the shortest poems I’ve written in a while, but it carries an idea I’ve been circling for years.
A lot of love poems focus on being understood.
Wanting someone to see you. Wanting someone to know you. Wanting someone to understand the parts of yourself that feel difficult to explain.
Those desires are real.
But as I was writing this piece, I realized my attention was pointed in the opposite direction.
I wasn’t thinking about being understood.
I was thinking about understanding.
About how every person carries an internal world that exists beyond simple translation. A private rhythm. A natural cadence. A way of thinking and feeling that doesn’t always survive the journey into spoken language.
I think that’s part of why I write so often about language, communication, and connection.
Not because I believe perfect understanding is possible.
But because the attempt matters.
Because choosing to learn someone—to listen carefully, to pay attention, to remain curious about who they are beneath the surface—is one of the most meaningful forms of affection I know.
The title came first.
“The Language Her Soul Speaks.”
Not because I believe souls literally have languages, but because some people seem to move through the world with a rhythm that feels uniquely their own.
This poem is about wanting to learn that rhythm.
Not to change it.
Not to possess it.
Just to understand it a little better than I did yesterday.
— Rowan Evans
“Not because I need to be understood, but because I want to understand.” — The Language Her Soul Speaks by Rowan Evans
The Language Her Soul Speaks Poetry by Rowan Evans
I want to whisper secrets
in the language her soul speaks,
touch the edges of her mind
in the natural cadence
in which she thinks—
not translated,
not borrowed,
not filtered
through the limits of my tongue.
Not because I need
to be understood,
but because I want to understand.
Journey into the Hexverse…
[L Words & Heart] A playful, self-aware poem about love, longing, loyalty, and the quiet ways another person can reshape our inner world. What begins as humor slowly reveals a heartfelt confession about affection, imagination, and the faces that linger in our dreams.
[Just Beyond Waking] A street that feels familiar. A life that hasn’t happened yet. Just Beyond Waking explores the fragile space between dreams, memory, longing, and the quiet feeling that some futures are already waiting for us.
[I’ll Be There to See Your Sunrise] Love has never come easily to me. This poem explores the fear, vulnerability, and quiet courage required to stay emotionally present when connection begins to matter deeply. “I’ll Be There to See Your Sunrise” is about choosing love despite the risk of heartbreak—and promising to remain long enough to witness someone fully.
The opening voice is intentionally playful—awkward, self‑deprecating, a little chaotic, prone to wandering off into side comments before finding its way back again. In many ways, it feels closer to how I actually think than some of my more polished or serious pieces.
But underneath the humor is something sincere.
I’ve never been particularly good at saying important things directly. Sometimes vulnerability arrives disguised as a joke. Sometimes affection hides behind wordplay. Sometimes the safest way to admit what you’re feeling is to make someone laugh first.
The title comes from a simple realization: when I think about certain people, my thoughts tend to orbit the same things.
Love. Longing. Loyalty.
The L words.
And heart.
The final section is intentionally quieter than everything that comes before it. The jokes fall away, the distractions disappear, and what remains is the truth the speaker was circling the entire time: the way another person can take up space in your imagination, your creativity, and your inner world long before they ever occupy the same physical space.
Sometimes affection doesn’t arrive as grand declarations.
Sometimes it arrives as a face that appears when you close your eyes. A voice you hear in silence. A shoreline you keep finding in your dreams.
— Rowan Evans
Some people arrive in your thoughts quietly—then somehow become part of every dream, every poem, and every beat of your heart.
L Words & Heart Poetry by Rowan Evan
I’m just a quirky, mother—
not a fighter, but a lover.
I’m not brave or whatever,
I bite tongues,
holding words like lips
with padlocks.
I’ve never been a fan of change,
but I want things to change—
I want my life rearranged,
I want to be seen as normal
not strange—
I want to be me
and accepted,
because I’m not as strange
as you think—
I’ve seen Stranger Things.
(Actually, no I haven’t.
I never got into the show.
But I digress…)
I’ve got things I want to say,
got things I want you to know.
When I think about you
it’s all L words and heart,
you reshaped my art.
So I close my eyes
and I see your face.
In silence, I hear your voice—
and in dreams I walk your shores.
Journey into the Hexverse…
[Just Beyond Waking] A street that feels familiar. A life that hasn’t happened yet. Just Beyond Waking explores the fragile space between dreams, memory, longing, and the quiet feeling that some futures are already waiting for us.
[Twin Suns, Sister Moons] A poem about distance, longing, and the quiet pull of someone who lives beneath a different sky. Between twin suns and sister moons, the heart keeps reaching for home.
[It’s You I Choose] A poem about devotion, vulnerability, and the quiet decision to stay. Sometimes love isn’t certainty—it is choosing someone anyway.
