Author’s Note
Depression isn’t always loud.
Sometimes it doesn’t look like darkness at all–it looks like dimming.
Like the light is still there… just harder to feel.
This piece came from that space.
From trying to move through the fog, to function, to follow advice that makes sense in theory–but doesn’t quite reach the place you’re actually in.
And in the middle of that, realizing something else:
that sometimes, it isn’t the sun that grounds you–it’s a person.
The way they speak.
The way they exist in your thoughts.
The way they bring you back to yourself, even when you feel lost.
This poem is about that contrast–
between external light and internal connection.
And about finally saying something
that’s been held back for too long.
— Rowan Evans
some people still feel like light.
I Love You (Even in the Grey)
Poetry by Rowan Evans
I used to think depression
was only the dark days,
but now I see it
as the dim rays—
where the sun’s still up,
but the sky turns grey.
My mind fogs,
and I get lost—
following the rumble
of thunder,
as I stumble
my way through.
Pushing through thoughts,
endless.
Fighting my own mind,
relentless.
“Get some sun”, they say—
it’ll help you,
you’ll feel better if you do.
But what’s the sun
when I miss
your warmth?
And what’s the sun
compared to the light
from your smile?
You see—
when my thoughts
get loud,
I use the echo
of your voice
to drown them out.
You’re something
that centers me.
You remind me
where my feet should be—
firmly planted.
Even without roots here.
So even when
I stay lost,
you stay
in my thoughts.
And every prayer I pray…
Like when I prayed for strength,
so I can plainly say…
I love you.
Now—
I’ve bitten my tongue
long enough.
So I’ll say it again
to make up for time lost.
I love you—
and I mean it.
Journey into the Hexverse!
[To Whom It May Concern…]
A raw exploration of vulnerability, fear, and self-sabotage—this poem captures the struggle between wanting to be seen and the instinct to hide.
[Weathered]
A deeply introspective poem about confronting fear, breaking patterns, and choosing to stand in the storm instead of running from it.
[The Mind’s Winter]
This piece wasn’t planned. It’s a real-time reflection on emotional withdrawal, overthinking, and the distance that can grow when something matters too much… ending with a simple truth: I miss you.
[Same Room (Emotionally)]
Can you miss someone you’ve never met? This poem explores emotional connection beyond physical distance and what it means to truly feel seen.
[No Parachute]
A poetic reflection on falling in love without hesitation—raw, uncertain, and without a safety net.
[When I Started to Fall for You]
A lyrical exploration of love’s intensity—how connection grows, transforms, and reshapes the way we experience the world.
[Bad Habit]
A powerful reflection on repetitive thought patterns, emotional loops, and the moment of realizing you’re stuck inside your own mind.
[Same Sky]
A poetic meditation on longing, distance, and the quiet desire to share the same space—even when worlds apart.
[Can’t Tell the Difference]
A reflective poem about the blurred line between dreams and reality, where memory, longing, and love intertwine until the difference no longer feels clear.
[Standing Between Us]
A room filled with every version of yourself—past, present, and possible. This poem explores the space between identity and connection, where becoming who you are and reaching for someone else begin to feel like the same act.
[Beneath the Surface]
A poem about wanting more than surface-level connection—seeking the truth, the scars, and the quiet battles that shape who we are.
[The Voice in the Haze]
A wandering dream, a voice that feels like memory, and a moment where everything quiets just enough to be found.
If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]
Poetry by Rowan Evans 