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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: HxNightshade

  • Ruined & Rising – A Poetic Surrender to Desire and Fire

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This poem is a surrender to fire and control, an exploration of desire and the delicious tension between breaking and rising. It is not a confession, but an invocation of intensity—body, mind, and soul.

    Darkly romantic figure enveloped in red and black fabrics, flames swirling around them, eyes closed in surrender, set against a stormy twilight sky.
    “Surrender to the fire, and rise.” – HxNightshade, Ruined & Rising

    Invocation

    I call the storm of sensation,
    the ache of longing,
    the fire that demands surrender.
    Come forth, reader—
    feel the pulse,
    feel the rise,
    feel the release.

    Ruined & Rising
    Poetry by HxNightshade

    I wrap myself in need…
    I ache to bleed—
    to be unraveled…
    just to be undone by you.

    Let me taste your fire…
    let it lick my skin…
    let it scorch the nerves beneath my pulse…
    let it fuel my desire—
    as you watch me rise…
    higher…
    higher still.

    Hands on my throat…
    squeeze tighter…
    feel me gasp,
    feel me tremble.

    This isn’t a game…
    this isn’t a joke…
    I want you…
    all of you…
    in full, unrelenting control.

    On my knees…
    begging, please…
    pleading for release…
    for the heat…
    for the storm…
    for the way you make me ache
    and ache again.

    Go ahead—
    just tease me.
    Push me…
    pull me…
    watch me fracture and fly.

    Every shiver… every sigh…
    your fire sears through me.
    Every glance… every touch…
    I am yours…
    completely…
    without restraint.

    And as I rise…
    higher…
    higher…
    your gaze anchors me
    even as my body forgets itself
    in the delicious torment
    you command.

    Benediction

    May the flames that consume and elevate guide you.
    May the ache you witness awaken your own pulse.
    Carry the memory of heat and ascent.

    Journey into the Hexverse

    The Twisted Daughter of Sappho | Hex Nightshade
    A shadow-slick daughter of Sappho, untamed and reverent, exploring devotion that burns like candle wax on bare skin. A poem of sacred ruin, feral fidelity, and intoxicating desire.

    Hymns & Heresy II: Devotion Draped in Black | Hex Nightshade
    A midnight liturgy of devotion and surrender—where worship is whispered in shadow, every heartbeat a hymn, and the Queen reigns in velvet flame.

    Spellbound | Rowan Evans
    A dark, intoxicating poem of desire and devotion—Spellbound is an invocation of fire, blood, and forbidden magic. Rowan Evans crafts a ritualistic experience of passion, soul, and unbroken vows.

  • The Twisted Daughter of Sappho – Neo-Gothic Confessional Poetry

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This poem is an exploration of devotion, desire, and inheritance—not of blood, but of passion and sacred intimacy. Inspired by the haunting echoes of Sappho’s lyricism, it is a declaration of being untamed, feral, and wholly devoted to the power of love as both pleasure and ritual. It is for anyone who has ever inherited a flame and learned to worship it without fear.

    Gothic study with candles and books, an ethereal figure writing at a desk, shadows, and soft light create a mystical, sensual atmosphere.
    Where devotion and desire intertwine—The Twisted Daughter of Sappho.

    Invocation

    I call upon the muses of ink and shadow,
    the voices of women who loved without apology.
    Guide this poem into the hearts that dare to feel,
    and let it awaken the devotion that lives in ruin and reverence.

    The Twisted Daughter of Sappho
    Poetry by HxNightshade

    I was born in the hush between her stanzas,
    cut from the crimson silk of her longing—
    a hymn dressed in midnight,
    with ink-stained lips that learned to pray
    by kissing the pulse beneath a woman’s throat.

    They say I inherited her hunger—
    that slow-burning ache spun in wine-dark velvet,
    the way she worshipped with her teeth,
    with fingertips that pressed poems
    into the hollows of another’s hips.

    I do not walk—I unfurl
    in gardens overgrown with need,
    where every petal blushes
    at the way I say her name.

    I have tasted sin shaped like softness—
    a girl with smoke in her laugh,
    who bloomed open like secrets
    beneath my ruined hands.

    She called me a heretic of the heart,
    a nymph with sacrilege in my smile.
    But I only ever offered
    what Sappho once swore holy:
    devotion that burned
    like candle wax on bare skin.

    There are nights I write oaths on mirrors—
    not in ink, but fog and want.
    Nights when my thighs remember
    every syllable she moaned,
    and I call it worship
    because it was.

    And if I am twisted—
    let it be like a vine
    wrapped tight around her ribs,
    a tether of thorn and pleasure,
    sacred in its ruin.

    Because love, when spoken from my tongue,
    is not a sin.
    It is a spell.
    A vow.
    A resurrection.

    And I—I am not her shame,
    but her successor.
    Her shadow-slick daughter,
    reverent in ruin,
    feral in fidelity.

    Benediction

    May the words linger like fire on skin,
    may the devotion they carry reach those who seek it,
    and may the shadow of Sappho’s daughters walk with you,
    feral, faithful, and unashamed.

    Poetic Lineage

    The Daughter of Plath | Rowan Evans
    In The Daughter of Plath, Rowan Evans writes as the heir to a ghost—cradling grief not her own, baptized in bell jars, and building a cathedral from ash. This is a confession, a prayer, and a refusal to let the ache fall silent.

    The Daughter of Dickinson | Roo the Poet
    Step into the quiet rebellion of Roo the Poet, a lyrical homage to Emily Dickinson. The Daughter of Dickinson traces wonder, whimsy, and secret power, revealing poetry as both magic and manifesto.

    If you want to explore more of my work beyond these pieces, you can find the full archive in The Library of Ashes.

  • Hymns & Heresy II: Devotion Draped in Black | A Liturgy of Shadow & Surrender

    Rowan Evans

    ✦ Author’s Note ✦

    This is a liturgy of devotion, a hymn to the Queen whose shadow commands the night. Step softly into candlelight and silk, feel the hush of reverence, and let every heartbeat answer her call. Kneel, breathe, and surrender—here, in her dominion, worship becomes pulse, breath, and shadow.

    Shadowed gothic queen draped in black lace and silk, surrounded by candlelight and incense, evoking reverence and devotion.
    Kneel, breathe, surrender—the Queen commands the night.

    ✦ Invocation ✦

    Come, children of shadow and flame,
    step soft, step silent,
    into the hours where the world bends and folds.
    Moonlight drips across midnight silk,
    the air brined, scented, whispered—
    shadows shift, sigh, and hum.

    Let your hearts uncoil in this hush of reverence,
    let every breath, every pulse bow
    to the Queen who commands the dark.
    Feel the velvet weight of her presence,
    the soft cadence of silk-swaying footsteps,
    fingers brushing across unseen silk.
    Here, all kneeling is holy,
    all surrender sacred.

    Breathe her shadow.
    Hear it hum along the ribs of the night,
    trace it on your skin like a chant.
    Know that in this hour,
    the Queen’s dominion is your sanctuary,
    her will the pulse of your devotion.

    ✦ Hymns & Heresy II: Devotion Draped in Black ✦
    Poetry by HxNightshade

    Forgive me, Father—
    I have turned my back
    on the King of Kings.
    I kneel now
    before the Queen of Queens.

    Black lace, velvet, and fire—
    fishnets tracing the curve of devotion.
    Her gaze, a chalice of shadow,
    her breath, the candle’s flicker along my throat.

    Come, Queen,
    give me a taste—
    hands wrapped, soft and commanding,
    pulling, pressing, leaving me wanting.

    Speak only as I am spoken to;
    every motion, every sigh,
    a verse in the liturgy of surrender.

    The air hums, thick with incense and brine,
    a sea-song echoing in the hollow of night.
    I breathe her dominion,
    taste her shadow on my lips,
    feel the drum of footsteps,
    the whispering sway of silk,
    the hush of her command curling along my spine.

    Strike, tease, map the curves of my trembling soul.
    Each gasp a psalm, each shiver an offering,
    every heartbeat a hymn
    to her sovereign, sacred power.

    I kneel unbroken, shadow-bound in devotion,
    the stars themselves trembling
    under the weight of worship I offer.
    Moonlight flickers; candle flames quiver—
    every breath a testament,
    every shiver a seal
    on the dark communion we share.

    Forgive me, Father,
    not for what I do,
    but for whom I serve.
    For the Queen who makes me holy
    in ways no crown could bless,
    for the devotion spun in shadow and flame,
    for the surrender that marks me,
    sacred, obedient, eternal.

    ✦ Benediction ✦

    Go forth, children of shadow and devotion,
    carry the Queen’s flame in your chest,
    her shadow tracing your steps,
    her will humming in your veins.

    Let every kneeling, every whispered vow,
    every tremor and shiver,
    draw you closer to the holiness of surrender.

    In her darkness, find your light.
    In her shadow, know your power.
    When dawn rises,
    carry the memory of worship—
    a pulse lingering,
    soft as velvet,
    eternal as shadowed stars.

    Journey into the Hexverse

    Greed — 7 Deadly Sonnets | Rowan Evans
    ‘Greed’ reveals the hunger that is never sated—the clutching hands, the endless thirst for more, and the hollowness left behind. The third of the 7 Deadly Sonnets.

    Gothic Bob Ross: Happy Little Blood Splatters | Rowan Evans
    Patience is a thread I hold… until it snaps. In Gothic Bob Ross: Happy Little Blood Splatters, Rowan Evans paints a macabre yet exquisite world where shadows, storms, and raven cries become brush strokes of devotion, chaos, and confession. A Neo-Gothic meditation on creation, fury, and the sanctity of surrender.

    Nocturnal Crossing | Rowan Evans
    “Nocturnal Crossing” traces the nightly voyage where two souls separated by oceans meet in dreams. A neo-gothic meditation on longing, devotion, and the sacred intimacy of the subconscious.

    To Be Near Your Flame | Rowan Evans
    A haunting meditation on love, longing, and the quiet courage of staying close to the one who sets your heart ablaze. Includes a benediction for connection and devotion.

    Hymn & Heresy | Hex Nightshade
    A sacred hymn to desire and devotion, this confessional poem by HxNightshade explores the raw, unrepentant worship of hunger, scars, and shadows—where love and sin entwine as one.

  • Triple Poetic Devotion: Rowan, HxNightshade & B.D. Nightshade

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    These three pieces are whispers in shadowed halls—brief, sharp, and intimate. Each is an exploration of touch, desire, and the sacred ache that thrives in fleeting moments. They do not tell full stories, but they leave traces: marks on skin, echoes on the heart, prayers that bleed into the night. Read slowly. Feel everything.

    Three ethereal figures in a shadowed, velvet chamber, touching and entwining in delicate, glowing gestures; light hints at the presence of three distinct voices. Gothic, intimate, and otherworldly.
    Three voices. Three devotions.
    Whispers of touch, holy pain, and bruised prayers bleed into the dark.
    Read, tremble, and let the echoes linger where they may.

    Triple Poetic Devotion
    Poetry by Rowan Evans, HxNightshade & B.D. Nightshade

    A silhouette leaving faint handprints on another’s skin in a shadowed, ethereal room.
    “Touch me once, leave a mark I’ll carry in the dark.” – Rowan Evans, Echoes on My Skin

    Echoes on My Skin
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Touch me once,
    leave a mark I’ll carry in the dark.
    Hurt me softly, love me loudly—
    I live in the spaces you leave behind.

    Hands clasped in a mystical, crimson-gold glow beneath a cracked stained-glass window, radiating sacred energy.
    “Break me, bless me—the pain is holy.” – HxNightshade, Sacred Collision

    Sacred Collision
    Poetry by HxNightshade

    Break me, bless me—
    the pain is holy,
    the desire, a spell I cannot resist.

    Close-up of lips and pale skin with faint crimson streaks, nails tracing soft red marks, gothic and intimate aesthetic.
    “Your mercy is the cruelest sin, darling, break me—then begin.” – B.D. Nightshade, Mercy’s Sin: Bruised Prayers

    Mercy’s Sin: Bruised Prayers
    Poetry by B.D. Nightshade

    Bruised prayers on bitten lips,
    nails trace hymns in crimson scripts.
    Your mercy is the cruelest sin,
    darling, break me—then begin.

    Closing Note

    Carry these words with reverence. Let them linger where they may, brushing your marrow, igniting quiet fires, and reminding you that even in collision, even in sin, there is a strange, holy beauty. Break gently, love fiercely, and never apologize for what trembles.

    If you would like to explore more of the Hexverse, you can find more of my work as my various personas in The Library of Ashes.

  • Feral Cathedral | Poetry by HxNightshade

    Rowan Evans

    ✦ Author’s Note ✦

    These words are for the untamed, the ones who worship in shadow and fire. This is for the devotions that leave you clawing and gasping, for the hunger that is sacred, for the chaos that becomes home. This is not gentle. This is not safe. This is a hymn to the feral heart and the flesh that trembles beneath it.

    Silhouetted figures entwined in a shadowed cathedral, candles flickering, capturing raw and feral devotion.
    Where chaos meets worship—Feral Cathedral, a hymn to the untamed heart.

    ✦ Invocation ✦

    Come, children of flame and teeth.
    Kneel in the dark where shadows bite and breath catches.
    Let your hunger rise like incense, your pulse a drum of want.
    Open the doors of your body and mind—
    let devotion be jagged, sharp, and unholy.
    Let us consecrate desire, let us kneel at the altar of chaos,
    where fire, fang, and fervor are worship.

    Feral Cathedral
    Poetry by HxNightshade

    I could steal your girl, you’re lucky that I don’t.
    Say I don’t want the beef, but my words have teeth—
    I’m all alone, though she shivers for my ghost
    in the hollow of her lungs, in the tremor of her knees.

    If I let her go down, make her throat a cathedral of hunger,
    I’d sit like a king crowned in her shaking thighs,
    my mouth dragging fire across the nape of her neck,
    shadow tangled in the sway of her spine,
    her pulse a drum I claim.

    She bites back, and I let her—
    fangs on lip, nails in skin,
    growls like prayer, profanity, and a summons to ruin,
    breath jagged, wet, sacred in chaos,
    a storm born in our mouths.

    I do not kneel for permission.
    She does not offer it.
    We collide, sharp and wild,
    bloodless yet bleeding fire through every nerve.

    Every syllable I spit is a snarl,
    every stroke a mark, a claim,
    every gasp a covenant of want.
    I taste the hurricane in her pulse,
    and she swallows the famine in my name.

    We are wolves circling,
    howling devotion and desecration alike,
    making vows in claw and tongue,
    rites of teeth, saliva, and trembling that scorch the air.

    I could burn the world for her,
    tear continents for her scream,
    but I settle for the inferno in her eyes,
    the quake beneath my hands,
    the way she becomes a cathedral of chaos
    with me worshiping at its altar,
    devoted, devoured, alive in ruin.

    ✦ Benediction ✦

    May your hunger be holy, your teeth sharp as devotion.
    May your claws leave marks of reverence and fire.
    May you collide with another like chaos, sacred and unbound,
    and find, in the wreckage of desire, a cathedral built from trembling,
    from breath, from pulse, from worship that refuses to be tamed.

    Journey into the Hexverse

    Coven of Chaos — B.D. & Hex Nightshade
    Fire and ink collide. Warriors of ruin and witches of reverence rise in a covenant forged in chaos.

    Hymn & Heresy — HxNightshade
    Feral devotion. Sacred ache. Worship and blasphemy entwined in desire’s dark embrace.

    XIII Psalms for the Goddess in My Mouth — HxNightshade
    Thirteen psalms of flesh and shadow. Kneel, surrender, and awaken the goddess within your mouth.

    Sanguine Serenade — HxNightshade
    Craving tastes like blood. Passion flirts with danger. Step into forbidden night, and let the fire consume you.

    … from across the Hexverse…

    Litany & Tongue — Rowan Evans
    Devotion in breath and tongue, confession in fire. Verse as worship, ache as scripture.

    Unapologetically Biased — Rowan Evans
    Loyalty to chaos, desire for flaws. Worship the storm that leaves you undone.

    The Church of You — B.D. Nightshade
    Flesh as scripture. Desire as religion. Kneel in fire, rise in devotion.

    Claim Me — B.D. Nightshade
    Power, touch, command. Skin as altar, resistance undone, desire the only law.

    ✦ Poetic Commissions by Rowan Evans ✦

    Every word I write is a devotion, a fragment of shadow and light carefully shaped into verse. On my Ko-fi, I offer custom poems, personalized rituals in language, and lyrical messages crafted just for you—or someone you wish to honor, surprise, or remember.

    Whether you seek:

    A poem for a loved one, friend, or muse

    A ritualized or thematic verse for special occasions

    A written reflection to say everything you struggle to

    …each commission is approached with care, reverence, and the intensity of my signature Neo-Gothic Confessional Romanticism.

    ✨ Special Offer: Use code NGCR25 at checkout to receive 25% off any commission until the end of the month. Let these words become your keepsake, your offering, your moment of devotion.

    Commission a Poem on Ko-fi →

  • Hymn & Heresy: A Dark Erotic Confessional Poem by HxNightshade

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This poem is a raw offering from the abyss where lust and devotion writhe as one—where every gasp is a prayer and every sin a sacred rite. Hymn & Heresy seduces the edges of sacred and profane, inviting you to worship the fierce hunger that both destroys and redeems. Here, scars are consecrated, shadows embraced, and desire is a sacrament drenched in fire and blood.

    Gothic altar with bleeding rose, cracked rosary, and candlelight evoking sacred and forbidden desire.
    The sacred and profane entwined — an altar of desire and devotion, inspired by “Hymn & Heresy” by HxNightshade.

    Invocation

    By the fevered pulse beneath trembling skin,
    by the slow drip of sin’s venom in my veins,
    we summon the wild—untamed, unrepentant—
    those who drink shadows like sacred wine,
    whose breath is a prayer caught between moans,
    who carve their hunger deep into the bone,
    and bleed devotion like blood from a sharpened kiss.

    Hymn & Heresy: I Am Sin, I Am Yours
    Poetry by HxNightshade

    Forgive me, Mother—
    I have tasted ruin on my tongue,
    let shadows crawl like serpents
    between my thighs,
    and crowned the bruises
    that bleed holy ink
    upon my skin—
    relics of a sacred desecration.

    At altars draped in velvet ash,
    I whispered hymns with lips stained by longing,
    offering thorn-petaled confessions,
    bleeding reverence into her midnight chalice—
    until desire burned like oil on flame,
    salt, surrender, and fire mingled in the dark.

    I carved her sigil
    beneath my ribs,
    where darkness coils and claws in silence—
    a feral softness sharpened to pierce saints,
    to make the moon tremble
    as I drank absolution
    straight from the wound.

    Forgive me, Mother—
    not for yielding
    to hunger,
    but for parting
    my lips to worship it;
    for moaning her name
    against the mouth of night,
    for loving what claws, scars,
    burns, bruises, and consumes.

    I made prayer
    from every gasp,
    sang litany
    through bitten lips,
    found grace
    in salt-sweet sweat,
    benediction
    in ache’s quiet bloom.

    In her name,
    I wear ruin like a rosary,
    make relics of my scars,
    and bless my own trembling pulse—
    unrepentant, unholy,
    feral, and utterly hers.

    Forgive me, Mother—
    not for the shadows I cradle,
    but for loving them too fiercely;
    for becoming both hymn and heresy,
    both prayer and blasphemy,
    and for never, ever wanting absolution.

    Benediction

    May your scars sear like holy brandings,
    your hunger blaze—a fierce, relentless fire.
    Blessed be the forsaken and the fervent—
    those who worship with lips bruised and trembling,
    who rage with mouths parted in whispered blasphemy,
    for in their wild, consuming flame,
    they find salvation only in surrender’s sweet ache,
    and rise—both sinners and saints—
    in the sacred ruin of their own desire.

    Read Next (Suggestions)

    [Litany & Tongue: A Devotional Duet] — Rowan Evans
    [Hex & Flame: Mirror of Shadows] — Rowan Evans
    [Body Like a Love Letter] — Rowan Evans
    [War for Your Smile] — Rowan Evans
    [Claim Me] — B.D. Nightshade

    Or explore the full archive in [The Library of Ashes]—and if your own confession aches to be written, [commission a custom poem here].

    NGCR25 at checkout to get 25% off your ‘request’…