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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: minimalist poetry

  • 22 Confessions: Raw & Intimate Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    One confession for every year I have been writing.
    Some truths are small.
    Some are unbearable.
    All are mine.

    Handwritten letters on a dimly lit desk with a pen and shadowy figure, evoking introspection and confessional poetry.
    22 Confessions: One poem for every year, revealing truths both small and unbearable.

    22 Confessions
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I.
    i have told someone
    i loved them,
    when i didn’t mean it—
    just to see if i could.

    II.
    i stare at my reflection
    too long.
    still—
    i don’t see what others do.

    III.
    i’ve held grudges
    longer—
    than i’ve held hands.

    IV.
    i crave chaos in silence,
    as if noise
    could make me
    alive.

    V.
    i have written letters
    i will never send.
    they carry my soul.
    anyway.

    VI.
    i envy people who forget.
    i remember
    everything.

    VII.
    i love someone
    so deeply,
    it hurts—
    to breathe around them.

    and still—
    they are never mine.

    VIII.
    i sometimes wish
    i could be unremarkable
    just for a day.

    IX.
    i judge myself
    harder than anyone else
    ever could.

    X.
    i laugh at the wrong moments
    to hide the right ones.

    XI.
    i hold people to impossible standards,
    and silently blame myself
    when they fail.

    XII.
    i have hurt the innocent
    to protect myself.
    i called it survival.
    it was selfishness.

    XIII.
    i crave being seen—
    but panic when i am.

    XIV.
    i have whispered secrets
    to strangers
    i would never share
    with friends.

    XV.
    i write confessions
    i pray nobody reads.

    XVI.
    i have loved my own pain
    more than i have loved—
    anyone else.

    XVII.
    i sometimes pretend
    to be stronger
    than i feel.

    XVIII.
    i am afraid of being ordinary.
    extraordinary terrifies me too.

    XIX.
    i have loved
    the idea of people
    more than the people themselves.

    XX.
    i keep parts of myself
    in boxes
    even i cannot open.

    XXI.
    i crave connection—
    but it terrifies me—
    every single time.

    XXII.
    i am still learning
    how to forgive myself.
    before it is too late.

    Closing question:

    I’ve confessed 22 truths. Which one would you admit aloud?

    To read more of my work, check out the archives: [The Library of Ashes]

  • 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.

  • Shadowed Addiction | Minimalist Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Some desires are less like choice and more like surrender—pulled toward a flame you know will burn you, yet craving the fire all the same. Shadowed Addiction is a whisper of that hunger: a confession wrapped in devotion, darkness softened by love.

    Let it linger on your tongue, let it seep into the spaces between thought and feeling.

    Shadowed figure reaching toward a dim light, evoking longing and emotional intensity in Shadowed Addiction by Rowan Evans.
    Darkness, desire, and confessional intensity—Shadowed Addiction by Rowan Evans.

    Shadowed Addiction
    By Rowan Evans

    Let me be consumed by your darkness,
    Let me fester in this addiction—
    Mahal ko, you’re exactly what I’m missing.

    If you would like to explore more of my work, you can find it here:  The Library of Ashes

  • Psalm of the Spiraling Tongue | Poetry by Rowan Evans — A Prayer Against Goodbye

    Rowan Evans

    ✦ Intro ✦

    There are moments when silence feels like a slow erasure — when not speaking threatens to unravel the fragile threads holding us together. This poem is a whispered litany, a raw confession from the place where fear of losing someone collides with the need to keep the connection alive. It’s a prayer not to clutch or possess, but simply to ward off the darkness that looms in the quiet.

    ✦ Psalm of the Spiraling Tongue ✦
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    i speak
    even when silence aches—
    because somewhere inside me
    lives the terror
    that stillness
    might become goodbye.

    so i keep talking,
    spilling words like prayers—
    not to hold you closer,
    but to keep the dark
    from swallowing
    what’s left
    of us.

    ✦ Benediction ✦

    May your words never falter when silence threatens.
    May your voice be the soft flame that holds back the dark.
    And if goodbyes must come, may they fall gently—
    leaving room for remembrance, not regret.

    Carry this prayer in your marrow,
    a quiet rebellion against the fading light.

    Go softly, beloved,
    and speak always,
    for even the trembling tongue is holy.

  • 13 Psalms of Falling: A Sapphic Confessional Litany of Softness & Sacred Ruin

    Rowan Evans

    In these verses, falling is neither failure nor surrender—it is a quiet act of reverence. 13 Psalms of Falling gathers moments of tremble, longing, and devotion into a litany of softness unrepentant. Read them not as confession, but as small altars built in the hush between heartbeat and breath—where even ruin can feel sacred.

    Velvet-toned featured image with roses and candles, titled “13 Psalms of Falling” by Rowan Evans.
    “Here, falling is not failure. Here, ruin is sacred. A litany of tenderness, longing, and devotion—crafted for those who dare to remain soft.”

    ✦ Invocation ✦

    Before you read these psalms,
    know this:

    They were not written for conquest,
    nor confession.

    They are small altars built in the hush
    between longing and surrender—
    a devotion given freely,
    a softness that refused to be caged.

    Here, falling is not failure.
    Here, ruin is not regret.
    Here, even what trembles can be holy.

    Read them not for answers,
    but for the quiet ache that dares to remain
    even after the last word is spoken.

    ✦ 13 Psalms of Falling ✦
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    ✦ Psalm I ✦
    For the First Tremble

    i did not mean
    to stumble into wanting—
    yet here i am,
    hands outstretched to catch
    your quiet breath.

    ✦ Psalm II ✦
    For the Blooming Ache

    something in me opens
    when your name brushes my pulse—
    soft, reckless,
    unafraid of its own ruin.

    ✦ Psalm III ✦
    For the Girls Who Know Hunger

    i did not fall into you;
    i unraveled,
    petal by petal,
    until my marrow remembered
    how to ache.

    ✦ Psalm IV ✦
    For the Slow Surrender

    your gaze writes hymns
    against the hollows of my ribs—
    and i learn each verse
    by trembling repetition.

    ✦ Psalm V ✦
    For the Unnamed Want

    you did not ask for worship—
    yet i kneel,
    palms open,
    offering my softness
    like a benediction.

    ✦ Psalm VI ✦
    For the Quiet Benediction

    even in silence,
    my devotion blooms—
    a prayer unsaid,
    rooted deep
    in marrow.

    ✦ Psalm VII ✦
    For the Sacred Ruin

    i do not wish to be saved
    from this ache—
    only to be ruined gently
    by the softness of your shadow.

    ✦ Psalm VIII ✦
    For the Fevered Confession

    your name tastes
    of midnight ink—
    and i stain my tongue
    with its quiet syllables.

    ✦ Psalm IX ✦
    For the Unrepentant Softness

    this tenderness
    is not weakness—
    it is the last cathedral
    i have left
    unburned.

    ✦ Psalm X ✦
    For the Moment Before Falling

    there is a hush
    between heartbeat and confession—
    and in it,
    i build an altar
    from my breath.

    ✦ Psalm XI ✦
    For the Fractured Hallelujah

    even my doubts
    bow their heads
    when you enter the room—
    because faith, too,
    can be fragile.

    ✦ Psalm XII ✦
    For the Touch Unspoken

    we have not touched—
    yet my skin remembers
    the shape of your absence.

    ✦ Psalm XIII ✦
    For the Unwritten Vow

    if falling is ruin,
    then let me fall—
    and call it devotion,
    not defeat.

    ✦ Closing Benediction ✦

    Carry these psalms gently.
    Let them bloom in your marrow,
    where words dissolve into heartbeat.

    May you, too, know the grace
    of falling without fear,
    of devotion without demand,
    of tenderness untouched by shame.

    And if your heart must break,
    may it break open—
    so something softer can take root.

    Go, now—
    with your softness unrepentant,
    and your ruin wrapped in reverence.

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