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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: Love-Poetry

  • The Quiet Inside the Noise – A Love Poem About Finding Calm in One Person

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    My mind isn’t usually quiet.

    It tends to move fast, loud, pulling in a dozen directions at once. Most of the time, that kind of noise is overwhelming–something I’m trying to manage, or move through.

    But sometimes, it shifts.

    Sometimes everything narrows–focuses–until all that noise settles around a single point.

    And instead of feeling chaotic, it feels… calm.

    This piece comes from that shift.

    From the moment where the noise doesn’t disappear–but softens, because of who it centers on.

    — Rowan Evans

    Couple walking down a warm city street at sunset with soft light and humid atmosphere.
    Sometimes the noise doesn’t disappear—it just finds somewhere softer to land.

    The Quiet Inside the Noise
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    My mind gets so loud—
    usually, that’s a problem.

    But when every thought
    revolves around
    a single point,
    the noise softens.

    It feels different.

    Especially when
    that single point
    is you—
    the quiet
    inside the noise.

    Every thought.
    Every dream.

    You and I—
    walking Manila’s streets,
    feeling Manila’s heat.

    “The heat,” you say,
    “you can’t take it—
    the way the humidity clings.”

    You laugh—

    telling me I’ll melt
    before noon.

    But I think
    I’ve already melted
    into the idea of you.

    Journey into the Hexverse!

    [Low Hum]
    Depression isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s a quiet presence—a low hum beneath everything. This poem explores that silence, and the small moments that help break through it.

    [Storm Systems]
    A powerful poem using weather as a metaphor for mental health, exploring emotional storms, numbness, and the people who keep us grounded.

    [121° East]
    A single line of longitude becomes something more—a reflection of distance, identity, and the quiet decision to become who you were always meant to be.

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

  • Lantern in the Room – A Poem About Trauma, Love, and Inner Darkness

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This piece wasn’t planned.

    It came out in one sitting–somewhere between thought and feeling, where things don’t always organize themselves neatly. It’s messy in the way real reflection tends to be.

    There’s a version of me that still exists in that room. The one surrounded by noise, by doubt, by everything that hasn’t fully let go yet.

    And for a long time, I thought the goal was to get out of that room entirely.

    To silence it. To leave it behind.

    But that’s not what happened.

    Instead, I learned how to sit in it differently.

    To see the shadows for what they are–not threats, but remnants. Not something to fear, but something to understand.

    And somewhere along the way, I realized something else–

    that I wasn’t alone in that space anymore.

    This piece is about that shift.

    Not from the darkness to light…
    but from fear to awareness.

    — Rowan Evans

    Person holding a glowing lantern in a dark empty room surrounded by shadowy figures, symbolizing inner demons and self-reflection.
    Even in the darkest rooms, a single light is enough to face what once felt impossible.

    Lantern in the Room
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I sit in an empty room—
    but I’m not alone here.

    It’s me, myself
    and the demons I hide.

    Remnants
    of a shattered mind,

    scattered across
    endless timelines.

    A life of possibility,
    held back by humility—
    and a lack of confidence.

    I don’t know
    how to take a compliment.

    What makes it worse is—
    I know my worth…
    but I question
    how anyone else could.

    I don’t let them
    get close enough to know.

    I get just close enough—
    close enough to know it’s real.

    Then I pull back—
    because I’m scared to feel.

    I’ve been hurt before.

    And that hurt—
    it festered,
    turned to rot.

    It spread
    inside my chest,
    until there was nothing left—

    just fear and doubt.

    In my head,
    they shout.

    I just wanted them out.

    And then—

    her.

    Her,
    with the voice
    that cuts through
    the fog.

    Her,
    with the eyes
    that light up the night—
    they brighten my life.

    Her…
    it’s always been her.

    Since the moment
    she appeared.
    It felt like—
    addiction.

    I couldn’t get enough.

    And I ask myself—
    is this love?

    I used to think
    I knew what that was.

    Now every thought
    revolves around her.

    Even when I drift,
    the thought of her
    brings me back to center.

    She’s the tether—
    a lighthouse
    in stormy weather.

    Just by existing,
    she makes me better.

    She didn’t save me.
    She didn’t fix me—

    she changed my perspective.

    That’s it.

    Now—
    I can’t picture
    what life was like before.

    It feels distant.

    Like a version of history
    that didn’t happen to me.

    But it did.

    That’s where my scars
    come from.

    It’s where the demons
    were born.

    The voices that whisper—
    the thoughts that scream—

    is this a nightmare
    or a dream?

    Because I’m still terrified.
    I’d be lying if I said otherwise.

    So I return to the room—
    lantern in hand.

    The shadows don’t scare me anymore.

    They’re just part
    of the narrative now.

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

  • Can’t Tell the Difference | A Poem About Dreams, Memory, and Love

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Sometimes the mind doesn’t separate things as cleanly as we’d like.

    Memory, imagination, longing–they start to overlap. What you’ve felt in dreams can become just as vivid as something you’ve physically lived. And after a while, the line between the two doesn’t disappear… it just stops mattering in the same way.

    Can’t Tell the Difference lives in the space.

    It’s not about confusion in a chaotic sense–it’s about the quiet disorientation of something feeling real enough to hold weight, even if you prove it happened the way you remember.

    Because emotion doesn’t always follow logic.

    And sometimes the question isn’t “did this happen?”
    It’s “why did it feel like it did?”

    — Rowan Evans

    Person standing above a glowing city at night, with blurred dreamlike figures walking hand-in-hand below, symbolizing the line between memory and reality.
    Where memory and dreams blur—
    and feeling becomes its own kind of truth.

    Can’t Tell the Difference
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I stand on the edge
    of what’s real—
    and what isn’t.

    But I can’t tell
    the difference.

    Is it a dream,
    or a memory?

    I don’t know anymore.

    I’ve held your hand before.
    I know I have—
    there is no way,
    that was just a dream.

    It was too real.

    I could feel
    the sweat on your skin,
    the heat in the air—
    humidity clinging,

    busy streets alive
    with Jeepney beeps.

    So what is real?
    Is it what you’ve lived—
    or what you feel?

    Was it real
    or a dream,
    when I looked you in the eye,
    and said—

    I love you.

    Because I felt that.

    I felt the words
    leave my lips—

    I love you…

    echoing,
    like a record skipped.

    Every night
    in my dreams,
    I meet you
    on city streets.

    We walk,
    we talk,
    hand in hand—

    conversations
    only I could imagine.

    We talk about life,
    but never the future—
    just the now.

    The current moment.

    Because we move the same—
    drifting forward,
    unchained.

    And still—

    I stand on the edge
    of what’s real,
    and what isn’t.

    And I can’t tell
    the difference.

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

  • Same Sky – A Poem About Distance, Longing, and Connection

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Same Sky sits in the space between distance and closeness.

    It’s about the kind of connection that feels real, even when it isn’t physically present. The kind that inspires growth, while also bringing fear to the surface.

    There’s a vulnerability in wanting someone–not just near you, but in your world. In admitting that their presence matters, even without defining what that presence is.

    At its core, this piece isn’t about certainty.

    It’s about longing.

    The quiet, persistent kind–
    that simply wants someone here.

    — Rowan Evans

    Two people far apart looking up at the same star-filled sky, symbolizing longing and connection
    Different places. Same sky.

    Same Sky
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Don’t take it personally,
    when I retreat—
    disappear inside of me.
    I’m reflecting—
    is this something
    I need protecting from?

    These feelings
    that I’m feeling,
    they scare me.

    It’s terrifying,
    sometimes—
    the way you
    make me feel.

    The way I want to change myself,
    not because you asked me to—
    because you inspire me,
    to be better than I was
    the day before.

    So I look to the heavens
    with feet planted,
    connected to the surface
    of the planet.
    Feet, the roots,
    grounding me.

    Even if I don’t feel
    rooted to the ground
    beneath.

    Eyes on the stars,
    mapping scars
    traced from afar.

    Ocean’s edge,
    is the reminder
    of the—

    Through the waves,
    I’d swim.

    I’d leave behind
    my life and everything
    I’ve ever known.

    It’s an internal insistence,
    to close the distance.
    A longing to stand under
    the same stars,
    in the same sky
    on the same night.

    To be able to look over,
    to know you’re near.
    Friend or more,
    I don’t care.

    I just…

    I want you there.

    Journey into the Hexverse

    [To Whom It May Concern…] (3/20)

    A raw exploration of vulnerability, fear, and self-sabotage—this poem captures the struggle between wanting to be seen and the instinct to hide.

    [Weathered] (3/21)

    A deeply introspective poem about confronting fear, breaking patterns, and choosing to stand in the storm instead of running from it.

    [Same Room (Emotionally)] (3/22)

    Can you miss someone you’ve never met? This poem explores emotional connection beyond physical distance and what it means to truly feel seen.

    [No Parachute] (3/23)

    A poetic reflection on falling in love without hesitation—raw, uncertain, and without a safety net.

    [When I Started to Fall for You] (3/24)

    A lyrical exploration of love’s intensity—how connection grows, transforms, and reshapes the way we experience the world.

    [Bad Habit] (3/25)

    A powerful reflection on repetitive thought patterns, emotional loops, and the moment of realizing you’re stuck inside your own mind.

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

  • Bad Habit – A Poem About Mental Loops and Self-Awareness

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    The mind has a way of repeating itself.

    Patterns, thoughts, loops–they can feel inescapable, like walking through the same place over and over again, no matter how far you think you’ve gone.

    Bad Habit is about recognizing those patterns in real time. Not after the fact, not with clarity or distance–but while you’re still standing inside them.

    It’s the moment of awareness.

    And the quiet decision to not disappear into it.

    — Rowan Evans

    A person walking through a repeating or mirrored space, symbolizing mental loops and overthinking
    Some patterns don’t break—they repeat.

    Bad Habit
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I feel like I’m running in place,
    my feet move but I go nowhere.
    Terrain’s all the same,
    it never changes.

    All the trees
    in the same place.
    All the people
    with the same face.

    Dreams, perhaps—
    or maybe a nightmare?
    My mind,
    it doesn’t fight fair.

    So I’m stuck here.
    Wandering,
    lost in my mind—
    pondering,
    you know I have questions.

    I was just wondering—
    if I reached my hand out,
    would you grab it?
    Pull me back
    from this static?

    I know it’s not you
    that I’m talking to,
    but my brain
    paints you so vivid.
    So I let myself take time,
    I let myself live it.

    It’s all inside my mind,
    dreams, perhaps
    or maybe nightmare.

    Maybe it pulls me in,
    and wants to keep me there.
    Like a ghost of despair,
    trying to get me to—
    disappear.

    But I’m not going
    anywhere.
    Once I’ve climbed
    out of my mind,
    and back into the world.

    Back into myself,
    into clear mental health.
    No more fog,
    no more static.
    No more feeling
    like my life is tragic.

    Another bad habit.

    Journey into the Hexverse

    [To Whom It May Concern…] (3/20)

    A raw exploration of vulnerability, fear, and self-sabotage—this poem captures the struggle between wanting to be seen and the instinct to hide.

    [Weathered] (3/21)

    A deeply introspective poem about confronting fear, breaking patterns, and choosing to stand in the storm instead of running from it.

    [Same Room (Emotionally)] (3/22)

    Can you miss someone you’ve never met? This poem explores emotional connection beyond physical distance and what it means to truly feel seen.

    [No Parachute] (3/23)

    A poetic reflection on falling in love without hesitation—raw, uncertain, and without a safety net.

    [When I Started to Fall for You] (3/24)

    A lyrical exploration of love’s intensity—how connection grows, transforms, and reshapes the way we experience the world.

    [Same Sky] (3/26)

    A poetic meditation on longing, distance, and the quiet desire to share the same space—even when worlds apart.

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

  • When I Started to Fall for You – A Poem About Deep Love

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This piece is about the kind of love that reshapes your internal world.

    Not suddenly, all at once–but gradually, in the quiet moments. In the way someone becomes part of your thoughts without effort. In the way their presence lingers, even in their absence.

    It explores the beauty and intensity of that feeling–how it can comfort, overwhelm, and transform all at the same time.

    To fall for someone is to risk change.
    To embrace it is to accept that you won’t be the same after.

    — Rowan Evans

    A person watching a sunrise, representing love, warmth, and emotional connection
    Love doesn’t arrive all at once—it unfolds.

    When I Started to Fall for You
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    When I started to fall for you,
    the world shifted and swayed.
    You became the dawn’s first whisper,
    the sun’s embrace at play.
    From the moment I awaken,
    your name graces my lips.
    in the quiet of the morning,
    where dreams and daylight eclipse.

    You became my sole obsession,
    my every thought unfurled.
    The last flicker of my mind,
    as night wraps up the world.
    Each heartbeat echoes your laughter,
    a melody so sweet,
    a symphony of silence
    that pulls me from my seat.

    In the shadows of my longing,
    your essence fills the air,
    I’ll learn your hidden stories—
    every secret that you bear.
    With every shared confession,
    I’ve mapped the stars in your eyes.
    Crafting constellations of love,
    beneath the velvet skies.

    To see your smile is magic,
    a light that ignites my soul—
    a balm for all my scars,
    it makes my weary heart whole.
    Your voice is the thunder,
    soothing storms that rage within.
    A gentle force of nature,
    calming the chaos
    with your skin.

    Your presence is a sanctuary,
    a refuge from my fears.
    In your arms,
    I’ve found my shelter—
    a harbor for my tears.
    When shadows stretched and whispered,
    and weariness took its toll.
    You were the hearth of comfort,
    where I could rest my soul.

    When I started to fall for you—
    I let the world fade away
    with every fleeting moment,
    I’ve cherished what you say.
    For in the depths of falling—
    I find a truth so rare…

    my heart will always wander,
    but with you—it finds its lair.

    Journey into the Hexverse

    [To Whom It May Concern…] (3/20)

    A raw exploration of vulnerability, fear, and self-sabotage—this poem captures the struggle between wanting to be seen and the instinct to hide.

    [Weathered] (3/21)

    A deeply introspective poem about confronting fear, breaking patterns, and choosing to stand in the storm instead of running from it.

    [Same Room (Emotionally)] (3/22)

    Can you miss someone you’ve never met? This poem explores emotional connection beyond physical distance and what it means to truly feel seen.

    [No Parachute] (3/23)

    A poetic reflection on falling in love without hesitation—raw, uncertain, and without a safety net.

    [Bad Habit] (3/25)

    A powerful reflection on repetitive thought patterns, emotional loops, and the moment of realizing you’re stuck inside your own mind.

    [Same Sky] (3/26)

    A poetic meditation on longing, distance, and the quiet desire to share the same space—even when worlds apart.

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

  • No Parachute – A Poem About Falling in Love Without Fear

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Sometimes the things we feel the most deeply are the hardest to say plainly.

    So we dress them up–in metaphor, in rhythm, in repetition. We circle the meaning instead of stating it directly, hoping it will be understood without needing to be exposed.

    This piece pulls back from that, just a little.

    At its core, it’s about falling–without certainty, without safety nets, without knowing how it will end. Just the quiet realization that the fall has already begun.

    And choosing not to stop it.

    — Rowan Evans

    A person falling through the sky without a parachute, symbolizing emotional risk and vulnerability
    Some falls are chosen.

    No Parachute
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Sometimes—
    I have so much
    I want to say.

    So I spell it out,
    in metaphor—
    and similes
    of different shades.

    I take plain,
    make it less obvious.
    I’ve said this
    a thousand times,
    in a thousand rhymes,
    across a thousand lines.

    A moth to flame,
    me and it—
    one and the same,
    but my flame
    is your name.

    1-4-3,
    that’s code
    I’ve used before.

    But I mean it…
    I really do.

    it’s true—
    I tripped,
    and fell for you.

    Free fall.
    No parachute.

    Journey into the Hexverse

    [To Whom It May Concern…] (3/20)
    A raw exploration of vulnerability, fear, and self-sabotage—this poem captures the struggle between wanting to be seen and the instinct to hide.

    [Weathered] (3/21)
    A deeply introspective poem about confronting fear, breaking patterns, and choosing to stand in the storm instead of running from it.

    [Same Room (Emotionally)] (3/22)
    Can you miss someone you’ve never met? This poem explores emotional connection beyond physical distance and what it means to truly feel seen.

    [When I Started to Fall for You] (3/24)
    A lyrical exploration of love’s intensity—how connection grows, transforms, and reshapes the way we experience the world.

    [Bad Habit] (3/25)
    A powerful reflection on repetitive thought patterns, emotional loops, and the moment of realizing you’re stuck inside your own mind.

    [Same Sky] (3/26)
    A poetic meditation on longing, distance, and the quiet desire to share the same space—even when worlds apart.

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

  • Same Room (Emotionally) – A Poem About Long-Distance Connection

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Connection doesn’t always require proximity.

    There’s a kind of closeness that exists beyond physical space–built through time, attention, and presence. It’s not something you can always point to, or prove, but it’s felt just the same.

    This piece is a response to a question that gets asked often: how can you miss someone you’ve never met?

    The answer is simple.

    Because connection isn’t measured in distance.
    It’s measured in impact.

    — Rowan Evans

    Two people in separate spaces connected emotionally despite physical distance
    Distance doesn’t define connection.

    Same Room (Emotionally)
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I’ve been asked—
    time and time again—
    how can you miss
    somebody
    you’ve never met?

    Just because
    her and I,
    have never been
    in the same room—
    physically.

    At the same time.

    Doesn’t mean
    we’ve never been
    in the same room—
    emotionally.

    And that’s
    what you don’t see.

    You don’t see—
    the patience,
    the presence,
    and the way she
    makes me
    feel…

    I am better than
    I have ever been.

    Journey into the Hexverse

    [To Whom It May Concern…] (3/20)
    A raw exploration of vulnerability, fear, and self-sabotage—this poem captures the struggle between wanting to be seen and the instinct to hide.

    [Weathered] (3/21)
    A deeply introspective poem about confronting fear, breaking patterns, and choosing to stand in the storm instead of running from it.

    [No Parachute] (3/23)
    A poetic reflection on falling in love without hesitation—raw, uncertain, and without a safety net.

    [When I Started to Fall for You] (3/24)
    A lyrical exploration of love’s intensity—how connection grows, transforms, and reshapes the way we experience the world.

    [Bad Habit] (3/25)
    A powerful reflection on repetitive thought patterns, emotional loops, and the moment of realizing you’re stuck inside your own mind.

    [Same Sky] (3/26)
    A poetic meditation on longing, distance, and the quiet desire to share the same space—even when worlds apart.

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

  • Weathered – A Poem About Growth, Fear, and Facing Yourself

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Weathered lives in the spaces between awareness and change.

    It’s easy to recognize patterns in ourselves–the ways we retreat, the ways we protect, the ways we leave before we can be left. It’s harder to sit with them. Harder still to change them.

    This piece isn’t about having the answers. It’s about standing in the storm anyway. Letting it hit, letting it string things back, and choosing not to run from it.

    Growth doesn’t always feel like progress.
    Sometimes it just feels like staying.

    — Rowan Evans

    A person standing in the rain facing a storm, symbolizing emotional endurance and personal growth
    Sometimes growth looks like standing still in the storm.

    Weathered
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I sit alone,
    asking questions—
    why am I like this?
    Why do I retreat
    inside my mind,
    when it’s you
    I’m trying to find?

    I mean—
    I know it’s because
    you mean too much
    to me.

    So I panic.

    I move inward,
    closing shutters
    to the world.

    I don’t want you
    to see me—
    not like this,
    not when you
    can perceive me.

    Because to be perceived
    for me,
    is to be left behind.
    It’s happened
    more than one time.

    So I leave first.
    I leave before it hurts.

    Again I ask—
    why am I like this?
    Why can’t I fight this?

    I just want to shake it,
    stop feeling like a mistake,
    be better.
    But better doesn’t seem
    to be in the cards for me…

    So I’ve got to learn.
    I’ve got to change
    some things—

    I need to pull myself
    back together,
    because this—

    this is a storm.
    A storm I want to stand in,
    feel the wind batter me,
    let the rain strip me bare,
    and still—
    I will weather it.

    Journey into the Hexverse

    [To Whom It May Concern…] (3/20)
    A raw exploration of vulnerability, fear, and self-sabotage—this poem captures the struggle between wanting to be seen and the instinct to hide.

    [Same Room (Emotionally)] (3/22)
    Can you miss someone you’ve never met? This poem explores emotional connection beyond physical distance and what it means to truly feel seen.

    [No Parachute] (3/23)
    A poetic reflection on falling in love without hesitation—raw, uncertain, and without a safety net.

    [When I Started to Fall for You] (3/24)
    A lyrical exploration of love’s intensity—how connection grows, transforms, and reshapes the way we experience the world.

    [Bad Habit] (3/25)
    A powerful reflection on repetitive thought patterns, emotional loops, and the moment of realizing you’re stuck inside your own mind.

    [Same Sky] (3/26)
    A poetic meditation on longing, distance, and the quiet desire to share the same space—even when worlds apart.

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

  • To Whom It May Concern – A Poem About Vulnerability and Self-Sabotage

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Some feelings don’t arrive gently.

    They sit on the tip of your tongue, heavy and persistent, asking to be spoken–but never quite feeling safe enough to say out loud. So they get rewritten, softened, disguised. Butterflies, instead of something darker. Something truer.

    This piece is about that tension–the instinct to hide, even when you want to be seen. The way vulnerability can feel less like openness and more like risk.

    Sometimes we disappear not because we don’t care…
    but because we care too much.

    And still–there’s a part of us that keeps trying to come back.

    — Rowan Evans

    A person sitting alone at a desk in dim light, surrounded by crumpled papers, representing hidden emotions and vulnerability
    Some truths are easier to write than to say out loud.

    To Whom It May Concern…
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I’m writing this letter to spell out
    what I’ve been holding inside.
    I’m tired of hiding,
    behind wide eyes and
    white lies.
    Sick of saying butterflies…

    They are moths.

    They flit and flutter,
    light rumble
    in the stomach.

    Like the lanterns lit.

    I’ll admit,
    it makes me sick—
    the way this hits.
    The way it sits,
    on the tip of my tongue—
    your name.

    It’s become a sacred thing.

    And I care too much,
    so instincts kicked in—
    I disappeared again.
    Silently went within.

    I try and claw my way out.

    Sometimes I—
    don’t know why,
    I do the things I do.

    Self-sabotage sometimes.

    Clinging to anything
    to hide behind.
    To mask emotion,
    to keep me safe.
    Because—
    vulnerability,
    has not always been.

    But I will
    claw my way
    back again.

    Journey into the Hexverse

    [Weathered] (3/21)
    A deeply introspective poem about confronting fear, breaking patterns, and choosing to stand in the storm instead of running from it.

    [Same Room (Emotionally)] (3/22)
    Can you miss someone you’ve never met? This poem explores emotional connection beyond physical distance and what it means to truly feel seen.

    [No Parachute] (3/23)
    A poetic reflection on falling in love without hesitation—raw, uncertain, and without a safety net.

    [When I Started to Fall for You] (3/24)
    A lyrical exploration of love’s intensity—how connection grows, transforms, and reshapes the way we experience the world.

    [Bad Habit] (3/25)
    A powerful reflection on repetitive thought patterns, emotional loops, and the moment of realizing you’re stuck inside your own mind.

    [Same Sky] (3/26)
    A poetic meditation on longing, distance, and the quiet desire to share the same space—even when worlds apart.

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