kintsugi heart – Poetry by Rowan Evans

Author’s Note

Some nightmares aren’t about monsters.

Sometimes the nightmare is waking up and realizing that the person you want beside you is standing beneath a completely different sky.

My Nightmare comes from that place—the uneasy space between memory and hope, between what once felt shared and what now feels impossibly far away. It is a poem about distance, but not only the physical kind. There is distance between perspectives, between hearts, between the lives we imagine and the lives we are actually living.

Still, even nightmares have endings.

Sometimes you wake up before they become permanent.

And sometimes, even while dreaming, you can still see a little gold threaded through the cracks.

— Rowan Evans

Two distant figures stand on separate shores beneath different moons, connected across the dark ocean by faint golden and platinum threads. — *Two shores. Two skies. One horizon—and enough gold left to believe they might meet there.*

My Nightmare
Poetry by Rowan Evans

This is my nightmare.

You and I across the distance,
the view that we see is different—
your moon from my sky
is missing—
the sun no longer shines,
it’s dimming—

I don’t see the spark anymore—
don’t see the light in the dark anymore.
What do I even I write for?
I lost my purpose—think I did it on purpose,
it’s like I can’t rhyme anymore,
no clock, no watch, can’t tell time anymore.

This is my nightmare.

You and I across the distance,
the view that we see is different—
my moon is sickly pale,
but yours seems fine though—
the sun doesn’t provide light,
it’s gotten real low—

in times before, this is when
I would Kintsugi the heart—
but there’s not much heart left,
it’s all gold—soft metal,
softer soul—stayed warm,
when the world grew cold.

This is my nightmare.

You and I across the distance,
the view that we see is different—
when we used to be,
two pieces the puzzle
was missing—
the sun in the sky was fine,
but it dimmed in our shine—

I’ve spent time doing Kintsugi
on your heart too—it was hard not to,
gold and platinum weaved through—
I really did see you, flaws and all—
and all I saw was a gift from God.

I still don’t think—
I was wrong.

But that was my nightmare…

You and I across the distance,
the view that we saw was different—
but I still see the gold threads that connect,
the platinum hope on the horizon,
that one day the distance will close—
and we’ll walk the same shore,
it won’t be—

mine and yours.

Journey into the Hexverse…

[Dreaming Wrong]
A familiar dream becomes unsettling when the ocean becomes a pond, the tide disappears, the moon loses its reflection, and nothing feels quite like it belongs. Dreaming Wrong explores the uncanny feeling of finding yourself inside a dream that looks familiar—but feels like someone else’s.

[Poet’s Curse]
Poet’s Curse explores the painful side of falling too deeply: giving pieces of yourself away freely, taking accountability for your own heartbreak, and realizing that learning to let go can be harder than learning to love.

[Beach to Beach]
A dream becomes a journey between familiar shores and unfamiliar cities in Beach to Beach (How I Get There), a poem about imagined travel, ocean crossings, longing, and the places we hope to someday reach while awake.

[Where the Metaphors Lead]
Some truths are easier to write than they are to say aloud. “Where the Metaphors Lead” explores the quiet space between dreams, confession, and the courage it takes to let another person know how deeply they’ve become woven into your inner world.

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

I was staying with the guy who offered me a place—a warm, open home in the Philippines. The morning was slow, soft. We just talked and laughed, getting to know each other better as the sun filtered through the window. I felt… weightless. For the first time in so long, my body didn’t ache. I didn’t need to hide inside my own skin.

Later that day, I met up with her at the mall. The woman that had inspired every single love poem I had written for the last year.

She was wearing a sundress, soft purple with white stripes. It matched her Nikes—white with hints of violet, like twilight folded into fabric. Her voice sounded like heaven, and her giggle—God, her giggle—made the whole world stop. The way she caught me looking at her, like she knew, and didn’t mind… like she liked it. The world faded every time she laughed. It was just us. No noise, no pain, no fear. Just us.

We wandered the shops. She lit up when we passed a shoe display. I noticed the way her eyes lingered, how her fingers brushed the pair she liked without touching the price tag. She didn’t need to ask. I bought them for her without hesitation. Not to impress her—but because I wanted to. Because she deserved to have things that made her smile like that.

Before the dream ended, I said something in Tagalog. I don’t remember the words, not fully. But I know what they meant:

“I’m home.”

And I was. For that brief, beautiful moment—I was whole. I wasn’t in pain. I wasn’t fighting my own thoughts. I wasn’t surviving. I was living.

I woke up with tears on my cheeks.

The sunlight in my real room was harsher—unfiltered, impatient. My knees screamed again. My back ached like it always does. The weight came rushing back, like gravity remembered me.

But even through the pain,
even through the disappointment of being pulled from that softness—
I smiled.

Because for a little while,
I knew what it was to live without hurting.
To breathe without breaking.
To love without fear.

And even if it was only a dream,
it’s mine now.
A secret I tuck into the folds of my ribs.
A memory from a place that maybe isn’t real,
but felt more real than anything else ever has.

And that… that’s enough to keep going.

At least for today.
At least for now.

Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: kintsugi heart

My Nightmare | A Poem About Love, Distance, Hope, and Kintsugi

For a Moment, I Was Home