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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: feeling lost

  • Right Behind My Eyes – A Poem About Dissociation, Love, and Staying Present

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    There’s a specific kind of distance that’s hard to explain unless you’ve felt it.

    Not absence–
    but separation.

    Like you’re still here, still moving, still functioning…
    but you’re watching it happen from just behind your own eyes.

    This piece lives in that space.

    Between control and detachment. Between presence and drifting.

    For a long time, I thought connection was something that could fix that feeling–pull me fully back into myself.

    But that’s not really how it works.

    No one can do that for you.

    What they can do… is help anchor you.
    Give you something steady to hold onto while you find your way back.

    This piece isn’t about being saved.

    It’s about realizing that even in disconnection, even in that distance–
    there are still things that keep you here.

    And sometimes, that’s enough.

    — Rowan Evans

    Blurred figure standing in a dim room with a double-exposure effect symbolizing dissociation and emotional distance.
    Even at a distance from yourself, something can still keep you here.

    Right Behind My Eyes
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I stand between—
    control and disassociation.
    It’s like I’m right behind
    my own eyes,
    watching my own life
    pass me by.

    My body moves,
    but my mind
    stays still.

    Just going
    through the motions.

    Thoughts run rampant—

    One step forward,
    two steps back.
    One more step
    for everything I lack.

    From inside my mind,
    I see myself retreat—
    wake, eat, sleep, repeat.

    But I long
    for connection.

    Outside,
    I’m alone.
    Inside,
    her voice echoes.

    It keeps me—
    from drifting further,
    from disappearing completely.

    And in this struggle,
    I learned one thing:

    I don’t love easy—
    but when I love,
    I love deeply.

    And this love
    is the one thing
    that keeps me—
    from going under,
    from letting
    the darkness win.

    Because she can’t fix me,
    just like I can’t fix her.

    We’re not broken—
    we’re bruised.

    And bruises heal.
    Not by rescue,
    not by repair,
    but by time
    and care.

    And somehow—
    she draws the light
    from within me.

    Journey into the Hexverse!

    [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]

  • I Love You (Even in the Grey) | A Poem About Depression, Love, and Finding Light

    Rowan Evans

    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

    Person standing under a grey sky with a distant glowing figure representing love and emotional light
    Even when the world fades to grey—
    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]

  • Lost the Plot | A Poem About Identity, Control, and Rewritten Stories

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    There’s a strange kind of disorientation that comes from feeling like your life should make sense… but doesn’t.

    Like you missed a chapter.
    Or something important got cut before you ever had the chance to understand it.

    Lost the Plot leans into that feeling–but not just on a personal level. It questions what happens when the narrative itself isn’t entirely yours. When the direction shifts, not because it should… but because something behind the scenes decided it needed to.

    We’re often told that confusion is internal.
    That if we feel lost, it’s something we need to fix within ourselves.

    But what if part of that feeling comes from the story constantly being rewritten?
    From forces we don’t see, shaping outcomes we’re expected to accept?

    This piece sits in that space–between personal disconnection and a growing awareness the “plot” might not be as natural as it seems.

    Sometimes it’s not that you lost your way.

    Sometimes… the story changed without you.

    — Rowan Evans

    Person standing on a broken film set with scattered reels and a looming studio above, symbolizing loss of identity and control
    What happens when the story isn’t yours anymore?

    Lost the Plot
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I feel like I’ve been
    getting lost a lot lately.

    Like I’ve forgotten
    who I was,
    who I am—
    who I was becoming.

    I’m feeling like
    I’ve lost the plot,
    like the studio
    lost the reel
    that we shot.

    No longer
    can I see
    where I began.

    We got cancelled
    before we
    got going.

    We never saw an end.

    But we weren’t
    cancelled because of
    interest.

    We were cancelled
    because the studio
    got scared.

    Ratings were good.
    The audience cared.

    But they cared too much.

    It was causing
    connection,
    so the studio
    had to change
    direction.

    The studio,
    needs the divide—
    keeps people
    scared and wide-eyed.

    So there’s always
    someone—
    to point to,
    to name as the bad guy.

    The boogeyman.

    So we look to the stars,
    as if they could solve
    the problems.

    As if it wasn’t
    the studio—
    the writer’s room
    behind every decision.

    It was them—

    in the writer’s room,
    rewriting endings
    we never got to reach.

    Ratings be damned.

    The show goes on—

    we just don’t
    exist in it anymore.

    Journey into the Hexverse!

    [Another Fire]
    A powerful poem exploring global chaos, systemic inequality, and emotional exhaustion in a world where conflict grows faster than it can be understood.

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

  • Momentum – A Poem About Growth, Doubt, and Moving Forward

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This piece came from a quiet moment of doubt. Not the kind that makes you quit – the kind that makes you question the cost of what you’re chasing.

    Sometimes ambition feels heavy. Sometimes the version of yourself you have to become feels unfamiliar. This poem is less bout certainty and more about motion.

    I didn’t write it to motivate anyone else. I wrote it because I needed to remember that progress doesn’t require a map – just movement.

    — Rowan Evans

    A person standing at the base of a mountain at dusk, looking toward a faint path upward, symbolizing growth and momentum.
    You don’t need a map. You just need momentum.

    Momentum
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    When every thought
    is focused on
    the goals you’ve got,
    but they come
    with tremendous cost.
    What do you do
    when you feel lost?

    You breathe.
    You stall.
    You stare at the ceiling
    like it owes you answers.

    You hold your goals
    like they’re burning in your hands—
    beautiful,
    but blistering.

    You wonder
    if the cost is worth the climb,
    if the climb is worth the view,
    if the view is worth the version of you
    you’ll have to become
    to reach it.

    And still—
    you keep going.
    Not because you’re certain,
    but because something in you refuses
    to stay small.

    What do you do?
    You take one step.
    Then another.
    And another.

    You don’t need a map.
    You just need momentum.

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