Author’s Note
A moment of hesitation at the edge of connection—where silence lasts longer than words, and the question matters more than the answer.
Low Tide
Poetry by Rowan Evans
I see you
standing amongst
the waves.
I watch
as you step
and sway.
Slowly,
I approach.
My mouth moves.
No words come—
until I’m within
arms reach.
That’s when
my mind allowed
me to speak.
“What are you wading for?”
If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]
Author’s Note
One confession for every year I have been writing.
Some truths are small.
Some are unbearable.
All are mine.
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]
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.
Triple Poetic Devotion
Poetry by Rowan Evans, HxNightshade & B.D. Nightshade
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.
Sacred Collision
Poetry by HxNightshade
Break me, bless me—
the pain is holy,
the desire, a spell I cannot resist.
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.
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 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
✦ 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.
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.
✦ 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.
🔗 You Might Also Enjoy!
The Gospel of Softness III
My Muse: Then & Now
Litany & Tongue: A Devotional Duet
The Scourge They Named in Whispered Psalms
The Soft Apocalypse of Loving You
Poetry by Rowan Evans 