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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: human connection

  • Body / Mind — A Poem About Physical Touch and Psychological Intimacy

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This poem moves in two parts.

    The first explores connection as transaction—
    contact that is measured, conditional, and finite.

    The second turns toward intimacy that is not negotiated,
    but inhabited—
    the kind that alters internal architecture rather than
    leaving marks on the skin.

    What follows is not about harm versus healing,
    but about impact.

    — Rowan Evans

    Abstract illustration of a divided human figure representing the contrast between body and mind.
    The body recovers. The mind remembers.

    Body/Mind
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Part I: Body

    They can
    break you in body—
    measure desire
    in effort and result,
    hands fluent
    in cause and effect.

    Touch that asks,
    what do I get?

    Pressure applied,
    response expected.
    A transaction of skin,
    signed in sweat.

    When it’s done,
    nothing follows.

    No echo,
    no after.

    Just the body—
    learning how to rest.

    Part II: Mind

    But there are those
    who break you in mind—
    without ever touching you.

    They listen
    past your sentences,
    hear what you edit out,
    notice the way your breath
    changes mid-thought.

    They don’t demand.
    They remain.

    They sit
    until your defenses
    get tired of standing.

    And suddenly
    you’re telling the truth
    by accident.

    This isn’t force.
    It’s gravity.

    By the time you notice,
    your inner furniture
    has been rearranged,
    and the door you locked
    years ago…

    is standing open.

    Closing Note

    Let the body
    heal quickly.

    It always does.

    It’s the mind—
    once altered—
    that never returns
    to its original shape.

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

  • How You Take Your Silence | A Poem About Quiet, Intimacy, and What We Hide

    Rowan Evans

    I’m less interested in what people show the world
    than in what they carry when no one is asking.

    I’ve learned that silence has weight.

    Soft light filtering through sheer curtains in a quiet room, creating a calm and intimate atmosphere
    Silence has its own weight.

    How You Take Your Silence
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I want to go beneath the surface—
    to see the substance,
    where true beauty lives.

    Don’t tell me how you take your coffee:
    tell me how you take your silence.

    I want to see the things
    you’ve been taught to hide:
    the tremor beneath your laughter,
    the cracks in the walls
    where light leaks through,
    the fingerprints of your fears
    pressed into the corners of your mind.

    The corners where your smile falters,
    the shadows that dance behind your eyes,
    the way your hands betray the calm
    you wear like armor.

    I want to trace the maps
    of the roads you walked alone,
    I want to know the weight
    of your quiet—

    I want to see how it shaped you,
    how it made you
    the whole of you.

    Author’s Note

    Silence has its own language.
    I’m still learning how to listen.

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