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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: falling in love

  • Love Addict (High on Love) — A Poem About Craving, Attachment & Desire

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Love Addict (High on Love) is me taking one of my recurring themes—how intensely I experience love—and pushing the metaphor until it becomes impossible to ignore.
     
    I’ve often written about love as something intoxicating. A rush. A chemical reaction. Something that can make the world feel brighter and the mind move faster. But this poem asks what happens when that metaphor is taken literally enough to become uncomfortable.
     
    Because sometimes I don’t simply want love.
     
    I crave it.
     
    There is a difference.
     
    The language of addiction works here because love can create its own strange cycle: anticipation, euphoria, uncertainty, withdrawal, craving, and the desperate desire for another hit of the feeling that made everything seem worthwhile.
     
    And, naturally, my response to that craving is to write.
     
    That’s one of the things I find fascinating about my relationship with poetry. I don’t merely write about what I’m feeling—I often metabolize the feeling through language. I take the emotion, push it through rhythm and metaphor, turn it over until I can see its shape, and then put it on the page.
     
    So the final joke is also the truth.
     
    I get high on love.
     
    Then I get high on writing about getting high on love.
     
    And apparently, the cycle continues.
     
    Maybe that’s the real habit.
     
    — Rowan Evans

    A glowing crimson heart surrounded by dark shadows, with crimson ink flowing from it into a fountain pen and poetry pages.
    Some people chase love. I apparently write it until the high wears off—and then write another poem.

    Love Addict (High on Love)
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I get high on love
    like it’s a drug
    and I’m an addict
    with a habit,
    fighting for every hit
    that I can get—

    if I could,
    I would OD on it.
    Inject it straight
    to my chest,
    in-between the ribs—
    where the heart lives.

    I’d take the risk,
    the comedown, the crash,
    just to feel one moment
    where love doesn’t pass.

    I get the shakes and quake,
    knot in the stomach—cold sweats,
    when love doesn’t sit in the chest—
    it feels fake, not worth the weight.

    Wait—
    what was I saying?

    I get high on love
    like it’s a drug
    and I’m an addict,
    so I write lines
    that expand the mind,
    to feed the habit.

    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [Poet’s Curse]
    Poet’s Curse explores the painful side of falling too deeply: giving pieces of yourself away freely, taking accountability for your own heartbreak, and realizing that learning to let go can be harder than learning to love.

    [When I Fall]
    When I Fall is a vulnerable poem about loving without reservation, feeling everything deeply, and refusing to make the heart smaller just because wholehearted love can sometimes lead to loneliness and pain.

    If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]

  • Poet’s Curse — A Poem About Heartbreak, Attachment & Letting Go

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    There is a particular kind of heartbreak that doesn’t have a villain.

    Sometimes nobody betrayed you.

    Nobody lied.

    Nobody promised you something they couldn’t give.

    Sometimes someone simply exists, speaks to you, makes you feel something—and your heart decides to build an entire mythology around it.

    That is where Poet’s Curse came from.

    I’ve joked before about having a poet’s curse: the tendency to fall into feelings quickly, to hear a little beauty in someone’s voice and suddenly find myself wading into the waves after it. But beneath the joke is something I’ve had to become more honest about.

    Sometimes my heartbreak is partly mine.

    Not because I was wrong to feel what I felt, but because I have a habit of giving pieces of myself away before I’ve figured out whether there is somewhere safe for them to land.

    The person in this poem didn’t necessarily do anything wrong. She didn’t promise me forever. She didn’t lead me somewhere just to abandon me. She talked—and I listened. I heard a siren’s song, and
    I chose to wade into the water.

    So this isn’t a poem about blaming her.

    It’s about looking at myself afterward and admitting something uncomfortable:

    I learned how to hold on long before I learned how to let go.

    And maybe that’s the real curse.

    Not that I love too deeply.

    Not that I feel too much.

    But that once I give someone a piece of my heart, I don’t always know how to take my hands away from the fire.

    Sometimes the only way forward is to stop calling that weakness a curse and start learning the skill I never had—

    how to let go without becoming less capable of love.

    — Rowan Evans

    A fountain pen and open notebook beside dark ocean waves while glowing fragments of a crimson heart drift away.
    Sometimes the hardest thing to learn isn’t how to love—it’s how to let go of what you’ve already given away.

    Poet’s Curse
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Here we go again
    it’s another season of sin,
    the poet’s back
    heartbroken with a pen.

    Yeah, went and fuckin’
    did it again—

    it’s my fault
    my heart is cracked,
    with pieces missing.

    You see, I give them away
    too freely, it’s such a pain
    to be me, I get hooked
    too easily—

    she did nothing wrong,
    she didn’t lead me on, just talked
    and I heard a siren’s song—

    I waded into the waves,
    prayed for things to change.

    Pardon the moment of slowness,
    give me a moment while I own this
    and take accountability for my part
    in breaking my heart.

    It’s a poet’s curse—

    I only learned how to hold on.
    I never learned how to let go,
    my feelings and emotion
    like hot coals in my hands.

    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [When I Fall]
    When I Fall is a vulnerable poem about loving without reservation, feeling everything deeply, and refusing to make the heart smaller just because wholehearted love can sometimes lead to loneliness and pain.

    If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]

  • When I Fall — A Poem About Loving Wholeheartedly

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    When I Fall is about the way I experience love when I stop trying to make it smaller.

    I have never been particularly good at feeling things halfway. When something reaches my heart, it tends to go deeper than the surface—into the marrow, into the places where emotion becomes difficult to separate from identity. That intensity can be beautiful, but it can also hurt when the love I give doesn’t find its way back to me.

    The easy response would be to close myself off.

    To dim the light.

    To protect myself by pretending I don’t feel as deeply as I do.

    But I don’t want to do that.

    There is something important about refusing to treat your capacity for love as a flaw simply because someone else couldn’t—or wouldn’t—meet you there. Sometimes loving wholeheartedly means accepting that you may get hurt. Sometimes being honest about what you feel means sitting with the loneliness afterward.

    That doesn’t mean the answer is to become colder.

    I would rather keep my heart open.

    I would rather love the way I love—whole, honest, and unhidden—than spend my life making myself smaller just to avoid the possibility of pain.

    Maybe falling hard isn’t the problem.

    Maybe the real courage is choosing to keep getting back up without becoming afraid of the fall.

    — Rowan Evans

    An open heart beside a fountain pen, spilling crimson ink across a porcelain writing surface in a dark, intimate scene.
    I would rather love wholeheartedly than make my heart smaller just to make the fall hurt less.

    When I Fall
    Poetry by Rowan

    When I fall, I fall hard.
    I feel it all or nothing—
    when it comes to matters of the heart.

    There is no middle ground,
    no in-between—
    it’s all or nothing for me.

    I send out love,
    and no one returns with it.
    so I sit alone—
    it’s the same as always,
    I’m used to it.

    I wear my heart on my sleeve,
    exposed to the elements.
    That means I feel things deeply,
    nothing is surface level—
    everything is marrow deep.

    So I pour myself in crimson ink
    across a porcelain page—
    the only place
    that I can put this pain.

    Still, I don’t close myself.
    I don’t dim the light.
    I don’t pretend my heart is smaller
    than it is.
    I love the way I love—
    whole, honest, unhidden—
    even if it leaves me alone sometimes.

    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [Where the Metaphors Lead]
    Some truths are easier to write than they are to say aloud. “Where the Metaphors Lead” explores the quiet space between dreams, confession, and the courage it takes to let another person know how deeply they’ve become woven into your inner world.

    [Beach to Beach (How I Get There)]
    A dream becomes a journey between familiar shores and unfamiliar cities in Beach to Beach (How I Get There), a poem about imagined travel, ocean crossings, longing, and the places we hope to someday reach while awake.

    [The World Shifted Around Us]
    The world transformed around us—beach, city streets, jungle—but we never moved. Sometimes love isn’t found in words, but in the quiet certainty of someone remaining clear while everything else fades.

    [I’d Rather Try]
    Anyone can promise they’d die for someone. But love isn’t built on one dramatic moment—it’s built on showing up, trying again tomorrow, and proving your words through consistent action.

    If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]

  • No Parachute – A Poem About Falling in Love Without Fear

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Sometimes the things we feel the most deeply are the hardest to say plainly.

    So we dress them up–in metaphor, in rhythm, in repetition. We circle the meaning instead of stating it directly, hoping it will be understood without needing to be exposed.

    This piece pulls back from that, just a little.

    At its core, it’s about falling–without certainty, without safety nets, without knowing how it will end. Just the quiet realization that the fall has already begun.

    And choosing not to stop it.

    — Rowan Evans

    A person falling through the sky without a parachute, symbolizing emotional risk and vulnerability
    Some falls are chosen.

    No Parachute
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Sometimes—
    I have so much
    I want to say.

    So I spell it out,
    in metaphor—
    and similes
    of different shades.

    I take plain,
    make it less obvious.
    I’ve said this
    a thousand times,
    in a thousand rhymes,
    across a thousand lines.

    A moth to flame,
    me and it—
    one and the same,
    but my flame
    is your name.

    1-4-3,
    that’s code
    I’ve used before.

    But I mean it…
    I really do.

    it’s true—
    I tripped,
    and fell for you.

    Free fall.
    No parachute.

    Journey into the Hexverse

    [To Whom It May Concern…] (3/20)
    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] (3/21)
    A deeply introspective poem about confronting fear, breaking patterns, and choosing to stand in the storm instead of running from it.

    [Same Room (Emotionally)] (3/22)
    Can you miss someone you’ve never met? This poem explores emotional connection beyond physical distance and what it means to truly feel seen.

    [When I Started to Fall for You] (3/24)
    A lyrical exploration of love’s intensity—how connection grows, transforms, and reshapes the way we experience the world.

    [Bad Habit] (3/25)
    A powerful reflection on repetitive thought patterns, emotional loops, and the moment of realizing you’re stuck inside your own mind.

    [Same Sky] (3/26)
    A poetic meditation on longing, distance, and the quiet desire to share the same space—even when worlds apart.

    If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]

  • I’ve Got Moths In My Stomach – A Gothic Love Poem About Attraction and Vulnerability

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    People call it butterflies.

    But butterflies feel bright, airy, daytime.

    This feels different.

    This feels nocturnal. Drawn to light.
    A little dangerous. A little beautiful.
    A little inevitable.

    This piece is about that shift—when attraction doesn’t feel like nerves, but like gravity. When someone walks past all your defenses without even trying.

    And you realize the thing flutter inside you isn’t innocent.

    It’s intentional.

    — Rowan Evans

    Moths fluttering around a glowing lantern at twilight in a dark, moody setting.
    They said butterflies.
    But this feels nocturnal.

    I’ve Got Moths In My Stomach
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    They say this feeling
    that I’m feeling is—
    butterflies in my stomach.
    They say I should love it,
    but it feels
    a little too gothic.

    I think they might be moths,
    because they flutter more—
    when the day fades into
    night’s decay.

    It’s beautiful.
    The way they respond
    to the light in you.
    Dancing to a hidden beat,
    wings fluttering, happy feet—
    heat pulling like a vivid dream,
    thoughts of you,
    slip through
    seams unseen.

    And there is no defense for this—
    you leave me defenseless. It’s
    insane, how easy it is.
    You just walked right by
    everything I ever learned
    to keep me safe.

    If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]