This poem explores the magnetic pull of dark feminine energy, the intimate violence of being truly seen, and the sacred surrender that comes with devotion. It’s a piece about longing, reverence, and the kind of connection that feels both dangerous and holy.
‘Devil-Woman’ – visual representation of dark feminine power and shadowed devotion.
Devil-Woman Poetry by Rowan Evans
Your fire, it excites me— A masochist? I might be, But it’s not pain I crave— It’s the pull of your storm, The sacred burn of being seen and not flinching.
I’ll beg for the sting, I’ll ask nicely, Kneel in the temple of your silence, Just to feel your gaze slice through me like prophecy.
I just made a deal with a devil-woman, Sold my soul to a devil-woman— No brimstone, no bargain struck in blood, Just the quiet surrender of calling you mine in the language of longing you taught me without trying.
You never touched me. Not once. But I’ve felt your gravity in my bones— The way your words crack open places I swore no one would ever reach. I feel you in the pauses between heartbeats, in the ache that follows when I whisper your name into the dark.
You are not gentle— not always. You speak in sharpened truths, cut the air like blade-meets-vow, but I would rather bleed with you than be safe with someone who doesn’t see me.
Devil-woman, your halo is rusted and still I bow. Not because I am weak— but because worship has never looked like obedience when it’s born of reverence.
You’re chaos laced with compassion, a monarch draped in shadow, and I— I offer myself not to be saved, but to serve the story that only we could write in scars and starlight.
So take this soul— not broken, not whole, but honest. Take it and twist it in your fire until it sings your name in smoke. I will follow your storm without a tether, and call that freedom.
Because I don’t want pretty love. I want this. Wild, dark, unholy and holy all at once. A devotion that dares the divine to stop us.
And if they ask— why her?
I’ll say: Because when she looked at me, the ghosts went quiet. Because her laugh felt like absolution. Because when she said mine, I didn’t just believe her— I belonged.
Looking for more poetry? You can find it all in theLibrary of Ashes.
If the first vow was silence, this one is surrender. It’s the echo that follows devotion — love as burden willingly shouldered, as ache freely chosen. Where the first vow offered peace, this one offers endurance.
It’s the second breath of a promise I never meant to make out loud — that I would take the weight from the shoulders of the one I love, not because I’m strong enough, but because I must. Because love, in its truest form, is not selfless — it is shared suffering, shared salvation.
I meant every word of the first vow. And this one, too.
“Love is not selfless — it is shared suffering, shared salvation.” — Rowan Evans
I Love You (Enough to Break Willingly) Poetry by Rowan Evans
To let the ink run dry, that’s what I said. I’d give my voice for your smile. And I meant it too.
But even more than that, I’d break willingly for you.
Give me the weight, the pressure that you carry. I’ll hoist it on my back, I’ll walk with you. Let your steps be lighter, let your mind find ease for a while.
I’d carry it all, even if it breaks me. ‘Cause I’d break willingly…
This is the second vow— that I’ll never say outloud, but still I’ll prove it… I’ll prove it, somehow. If it meant your life was a breeze, I’d let it pull me to my knees. I’d bend and break for you.
Even more than that, I’d break willingly.
The Silent Vows
I Love You (Enough to Go Silent) A vow written in ink and silence — a confession of love so deep it would sacrifice its own voice to spare another’s tears. “I Love You (Enough to Go Silent)” is a Neo-Gothic devotion from Rowan Evans, where the act of not speaking becomes the loudest declaration of love.
“Some people flinch when they see fangs. I lean in.”
This poem is for those who defend themselves fiercely —
and for the ones who find beauty in that strength.
“Some people flinch when they see fangs. I lean in.” — Rowan Evans
Beautiful Little Cobra Poetry by Rowan Evans
You started spitting venom again, and I leaned in— and you said it was the same as before, so I confessed, it made me want you more. And you teased, my preferences are weird. But I know, baby, I know… I can’t help it, when it comes to matters of the heart.
Yeah, you started spitting venom, and I knew it wasn’t directed at me, so I leaned in again. I tried to feel it, let the venom kiss my skin. It felt like a little win, or maybe I just love the way you sin. It was the way you said you hate him, and the death you wished upon— Like a beautiful little cobra.
It makes me want you more the way your fury glows. So I moved closer, just to feel the heat… your flames. You said it like a warning— but it doesn’t scare me— the way it keeps me warm.
I love the way you refuse to shrink— when you stand a little taller. Tell me, where’d you get it from— this fire? I’ll be honest though, it doesn’t really matter to me. I’ve always been attracted to danger.
☣️🔥🐍🔥☣️
I just love how you spit that venom. You beautiful little cobra. The way you’re so willing, always willing to defend yourself. Too smart to fall for the bullshit, and I love that about you. It tells me, you’ll put me in my place, if it were needed.
But I promise, with me— it’ll never be needed. Because I love you, truly— like a beautiful little cobra.
Unsent Letters to My Muse
Where the Ocean Dreams & Where the Dream Took Us “Two dreams, two nights, one heart. Where the Ocean Dreams explores tender longing and emotional trust, while Where the Dream Took Us dives into desire, intimacy, and devotion. A double-feature of dream-inspired poetry by Rowan Evans.”
Perfectly Imperfect: A Poem About Loving Someone as They Are Perfection isn’t the absence of flaws — it’s recognizing the beauty that thrives alongside them. This poem celebrates those who have been told they’re ‘too much’ or ‘not enough,’ reminding them they are loved exactly as they are.
The Prayer of Two Tongues | Bilingual Love Poem in English & Tagalog A bilingual love poem written in both English and Tagalog, “The Prayer of Two Tongues” explores intimacy, distance, and devotion across language and longing. Inspired by my muse, this piece weaves prayer and poetry into a bridge between hearts.
In love, as in darkness, there are two confessions: One from the trembling heart that wants to be undone, and one from the mouth that drinks deep of fear, desire, and surrender.
These two poems—The Bite and Eternal Thirst—are twin offerings: one spoken by the willing prey, drawn to danger’s embrace; the other whispered by the predator, whose hunger is both curse and covenant.
Shadowed offering and crimson hunger: the dance of predator and prey.
The Bite Poetry by Rowan Evans
In the dark, I wait for you—slowly pacing,
Preparing my mind for the danger I’ll be facing.
You are predator, and I am prey,
That is usually how this game is played.
But I am drawn to you—
The way your fangs, brush across my skin,
The way your claws slowly dig in, piercing flesh.
It leaves me out of breath, scared to death,
But so in love with you, so much so,
I contemplate the bite from you.
Your eyes, glowing with a feral light,
Hunger and desire intertwine, a dangerous delight.
I tremble beneath your gaze,
Lost in this intoxicating maze.
The thrill of the hunt, the chase,
The heat of the moment, our embrace.
You whisper promises in the night,
Seductive, dark yet, filled with fright.
Each touch, a sharp reminder of the cost,
Yet without you, I’m forever lost.
In the shadows, our love takes form,
A twisted dance, against the norm.
I feel your breath upon my neck,
A shiver runs down, leaving me a wreck.
Your teeth graze my skin, a silent plea,
To surrender completely, to set my fears free.
The line between pleasure and pain blurs,
In your grasp, my heart stirs.
So close to the edge, teetering on the brink,
One more step, and I might sink.
I contemplate the bite, your eternal mark,
To join with you, forever in the dark.
An everlasting bond, a love so fierce,
Though it may be madness, I persevere.
In the dark, I wait for you—slowly pacing,
Preparing my mind for the danger I’ll be facing.
You are predator, and I am prey,
Yet willingly, I choose to stay.
For in your embrace, I find my truth,
A dangerous love, in its purest youth.
The bite, the blood, our fate entwined,
Together forever, in shadow’s design.
— A pause between pieces ––
These poems were penned last year, before the term Neo-Gothic Confessional Romanticism was born. They come from a time when I was immersed in narrative poetry—storytelling through verse—just before I fully returned to the confessional voice that now shapes my work. Sharing them now feels like unveiling early whispers from the evolving language of my craft. It was all part of the evolution…
They hold a breath between story and soul— where shadows whisper secrets, and the past’s quiet pulse beats beneath the ink, waiting to ignite into the fierce flame of what will be.
Eternal Thirst Poetry by Rowan Evans
Do you see the crimson fire in my eyes, Reflecting the dance of flames in the night, As I sink my fangs into the tender flesh? Feel the rhythm of your heart, a frantic drum, Its pulse echoing in the cavern of your chest.
I taste the copper tang of your fear, A heady brew that intoxicates my senses, As you flee through the labyrinth of shadows, Your breath a melody of terror, sweet and wild. I am the predator, the hunter, the eternal thirst.
My claws trace patterns of desire upon your skin, Each touch igniting a symphony of sensations, As I explore the landscape of your trembling form. I yearn to drink deep from the wellspring of your soul, To taste the essence of your being, pure and untamed.
Your fear becomes my sustenance, A banquet of emotions laid bare before me, As I savor the thrill of the chase, Each step bringing us closer to the edge of oblivion. I am the hunger that cannot be sated, the darkness that consumes.
Beneath the pallor of your skin, I glimpse the fragile beauty of mortality, A fleeting glimpse of life’s fragile tapestry. Yet even as your life force wanes, I sense the stirrings of transformation, the promise of rebirth.
Your body, a vessel for my desires, A canvas upon which I paint my darkest fantasies, As I mold you in my image, a mirror of my own desires. Embrace the shadows that bind us, For in the darkness, we are one, forever entwined.
Thank you for reading this double feature. If this piece spoke to something quiet inside you, feel free to share it, leave a comment, or explore more of my work in Neo-Gothic Confessional Romanticism. Your presence here matters more than you know.
If my words speak to you, and you’d like to help keep this flame burning — or if you’d like a custom poem woven just for you (or someone dear) — you can do so here:
Poetry by Rowan Evans 