Author’s Note

This poem was written in February of last year, during an earlier incarnation of a project that has since transformed into something entirely different. It comes from a gentler season of longing—one where love felt less like fire and more like shelter.

I’m sharing it now not because it fits where I am, but because it still tells the truth of who I’ve been: someone who loves in open doors and soft permanence, someone who believes devotion can be tender.

Some poems don’t belong to the book they were born for.
They belong to the timeline of the heart instead.

My Heart, Population: You
Poetry by Rowan Evans

You wandered in, no map, no key,
Yet claimed this land inside of me.
No walls were built, no toll to pay,
Just open roads that beg you to stay.

Your name’s engraved on every street,
A love so vast, so pure, so sweet.

Like ivy vines, you took your place,
Wrapped every brick in your embrace.
A cityscape of dreams anew,
Each heartbeat whispering of you.

No lease, no debt, no price to weigh,
Yet still, I’d pay in love each day.

A sunlit park where laughter rings,
A chapel where devotion sings.
My heart, once vacant, cold, askew—
Now thrives with life, population: You.

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