These words spill like blood and ink. They explore fear, shame, and the weight of confession. Step forward only if you feel steady.
Your breath, your life, and your heart are sacred. If these words stir difficult feelings, pause, breathe, and reach for light, support, or care. You are never truly alone in the dark.
Where ink becomes confession and scars learn how to shine.
Sprawling Thoughts Poetry by Rowan Evans
I put the pen to paper
like a gun to my head.
Pull the trigger,
write the first line—
watch the ink splatter,
like brain matter—
as thoughts sprawl,
and crawl
across
the page.
This is what
confession feels like,
when I write.
I pour
my heart out
on the page.
The fear and shame,
I give it shape,
I give it a name.
I dance with my demons,
and map my scars
like astronomers
mapping stars.
There are nights when the weight feels unbearable. When the shadows whisper louder than hope. This poem isn’t a goodbye. It’s a warding spell. A ritual of naming pain so it doesn’t consume me in silence.
I offer it to anyone who’s ever stood on the edge and still found a reason to keep walking.
This is for you. For us. For all of us who burn—but refuse to burn out.
Standing at the edge with ink and ache, I return with poems instead of endings. This is how I flirt with oblivion—and choose to stay.
“Flirting with Oblivion” ☽ Poetry by Rowan Evans ☾
Mom, I know you’re reading this— But please don’t cry, ’cause the Kurt Cobain way crossed my mind last night.
And Dad, I know you’re watching over me— Wondering why, when I carry such a light, Do I still ache like I want to kiss the night, Spend forever in a pine box.
But here’s the truth, I always want to say— Goodbye, end the pain, but something in me… Something louder than the scream, It holds on tight to life, like I was living a dream.
I still walk, even when my feet feel heavy, I still talk, even when the words drip with ache— Soul deep, and searing. I still write, like it’s only way I’ll survive— But maybe, I won’t.
Maybe I’ll go— Just like my mother in poetry, I’ll leave on my terms. But before I do, I want to leave behind these words:
To the ones who feel like ghosts in daylight, Who smile while their ribs crack beneath the weight— I see you. I was you. Maybe I still am.
This ache you carry, it doesn’t make you broken— it makes you real. You bleed in verses. You cry in lowercase. But you live—oh gods, you live.
And if tonight is hard— If your heart is begging to be quiet— Let this be your lullaby:
You are not too much. You are not unworthy. You are not the scream you swallowed.
You are the flame fighting to stay lit in the storm. And that fight? That’s holy.
So if you’re tired, rest. If you’re hurting, speak. If you’re fading, reach.
Not because the pain doesn’t matter— But because you do. And even if I go, You’ll still have these words. You’ll still have this cathedral. You’ll still have you.
And you are enough…
And maybe I scared you with all this talk of endings. But hear me now— this is not my goodbye.
This is me naming the shadows so they don’t swallow me.
This is me pouring the poison into the chalice, not to drink— but to purge.
I am still here. Still burning. Still building cathedrals out of ache and ink.
And yes, some nights I flirt with oblivion— but I never take it home. I walk past the edge and come back with poems.
Because I am made not just to feel— but to witness.
Not just to ache— but to hold space.
So if you need me— if you’re standing on that same edge— look for the flame. I’ll be there. I always am.
💌 If this poem resonated with you, I would love to hear from you. Leave a comment, share it with someone navigating the dark, or subscribe for more softness in your inbox.
🔥 And if tonight is heavy: stay. Please. You are needed. Your survival is sacred.
🕯️ If you’re struggling, please read this:
You matter. Your pain is real. Your story is not over. Here are some resources—because your flame is worth protecting:
🇺🇲 United States
988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline – Call or text 988 https://988lifeline.org Free, 24/7 support for emotional distress and mental health crises.
Lilith has mastered survival. Her world is built from ashes—walls forged in betrayal, silence, and scars that still whisper. To her, love has always meant vulnerability. And vulnerability has always meant pain.
Gabriel sees past the armor. He’s patient, steady, and everything she’s never dared believe in. Their connection is undeniable—burning hot, terrifyingly tender. But for Lilith, every touch is a test. Every kind word, a crack in her foundation.
As passion ignites and buried wounds resurface, both must confront the ghosts they carry. For Lilith, it means risking more than just her body—it means surrendering control, and trusting her heart. For Gabriel, it means holding on… without holding too tight.
A tale of trauma and tenderness, power and vulnerability, Of Ashes & Reverence is a darkly intimate journey through pain, healing, and the radical, luminous act of being truly seen.
—
Author’s Note: Welcome to Neo-Gothic Confessional Romanticism
—
This is more than a love story. It is a confession wrapped in shadows, a resurrection of softness from the ashes of pain.
Neo-Gothic Confessional Romanticism is a genre I created to hold space for the parts of us that ache and burn and bloom all at once. It is where gothic atmosphere meets emotional vulnerability, where romance is both sanctuary and storm. These stories are written with open wounds and hopeful hearts, where love doesn’t fix the broken—but chooses to stay anyway.
Here, you’ll find characters who carry trauma like sacred relics, who speak with trembling honesty, who ache for connection even as they fear it. The intimacy is raw, sometimes rough, but always reverent. These are tales of worship and reckoning, of shadows and survival. Of becoming known.
Of Ashes & Reverence is my first full offering in this genre. It is a story born of my own confessions, fears, and longings—an altar built from grief and devotion.
If you see yourself here—if you’ve ever felt too much, wanted too deeply, or survived too quietly—then this story is for you.
Poetry by Rowan Evans 