Author’s Note

To the reader:

This poem is a meditation on choice, autonomy, and intimacy. It’s about standing whole, unshaken, and still choosing to love someone—not because we need them, but because we want them. The lines explore that delicate balance between independence and desire, between survival and longing.

It is a celebration of being complete in oneself while recognizing that closeness, when chosen freely, amplifies life rather than diminishes it.
This piece is for anyone who has ever loved fiercely while remaining unbroken.

— Rowan Evans

I Don’t Need You
Poetry by Rowan Evans

I don’t need you.
I can breathe on my own—
lungs have done it for decades
without asking permission.

I don’t need you.
I can sleep alone,
learn the shape of empty sheets,
make peace with the cold side of the bed.

I don’t need you
to make me whole.
I arrived here intact—
scarred, yes,
but assembled by my own hands.

I don’t need your voice
to steady me,
your name
to keep the dark from biting.
I’ve survived worse silences
than your absence.

I don’t need you
to save me.
I am not drowning.
I am not broken.
I am not waiting
to be rescued.

But—

I don’t want to breathe
without you knowing the rhythm of it.
I don’t want sleep
that doesn’t reach for you
out of habit, out of hope.

I don’t want a life
where your laughter
isn’t stitched into my days,
where love is only something
I prove I can live without.

I can.
I know that.

But I don’t want to.

I want you—
not as oxygen,
not as shelter,
not as a missing piece—

but as the one
I choose
while standing steady,
while whole,
while free.

I don’t need you.

I just
want you
here.

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