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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: Poetic Love

  • I Love You (Enough to Go Silent) – A Neo-Gothic Confessional Poem by Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    🖋 Author’s Note

    This piece is my unspoken vow to my muse — the one who taught me that love can exist in stillness, that silence can speak louder than the loudest confession. It’s a promise born not of performance, but of reverence — that I would quiet even the voice I’ve spent a lifetime sharpening if it meant protecting the peace of the one I love. Some loves demand poetry; others demand the surrender of it. This is mine.

    A quill and a closed journal beside a candle, representing silence, devotion, and poetic sacrifice.
    “Even silence can be an act of love.”

    I Love You (Enough to Go Silent)
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I love you—
    not in the way
    that clichés say,
    “I’d give my life for yours.”
    Anybody can die.
    But I—
    I’d give my voice.

    Not the one
    that comes from my mouth,
    but the one
    that drips from my pen—
    the voice that spills
    into ink and pages,
    distilling
    every thought that rages.

    And I mean it.
    I love you—
    enough
    to give this up,
    to never write again.
    To let the ink run dry,
    if that’s what it took
    to keep the tears from your eyes.

    If you enjoyed this piece and want to check out more of my work, you can find it in [The Library of Ashes]…

    The Other Vows

    [I Love You (Enough to Break Willingly)]
    A vow whispered in ink and ache — love not as surrender, but as shared endurance. “I Love You (Enough to Break Willingly)” is Rowan Evans’ second vow, a quiet confession of devotion that chooses breaking over leaving, and burden over indifference.

    [I Love You (Enough to Learn You)]
    A vow of love and understanding—learning the language of another’s heart, putting them first, and listening when words falter.

  • Nocturnal Waltz: A Dark Romance Poem of Desire & Danger

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Nocturnal Waltz captures a moment I can’t stop imagining: the instant a femme-fatale vampiress meets her human lover for the first time. It’s a collision of worlds—dangerous, intoxicating, and utterly irresistible. I wanted to write the kind of encounter where time collapses, where every glance and touch feels like a promise and a warning all at once.

    There’s something thrilling about the first spark of desire, the delicious tension between curiosity and caution. In this poem, the night becomes a character, the shadows a partner, and the music of attraction a rhythm that no one can resist.

    This is for anyone who has felt the pull of someone who is simultaneously terrifying and magnetic, for those drawn to the edge of their own desire, and for readers unafraid to let the darkness brush against their fingertips.

    — Rowan Evans

    Vampiress and human woman dancing in a moonlit gothic ballroom, shadows and romance swirling around them.
    “Nocturnal Waltz: The first, intoxicating meeting of a femme-fatale vampiress and her human lover.”

    Nocturnal Waltz
    Poetry by Rowan Evans
    (June 9th, 2024)

    Fangs and bat wings,
    She was a Gothic dream.
    With lips, redder
    Than the river Styx.
    She was Nyx,
    Goddess of the Night.

    Her dress, woven from shadows,
    Flowed like ink in water,
    Each step she took,
    A whisper in the darkness,
    A promise of secrets untold.

    And she was enticing,
    Had me in a trance—
    Watched her move,
    Elegant and slow,
    As she eyed everyone in the room.

    The air was thick with the scent of jasmine,
    A fragrance that clung to her like a ghostly shroud,
    Wrapping me in its intoxicating embrace,
    Binding me to her, body and soul.

    Now, her eyes,
    Fixed on me. I couldn’t even move.
    In an instant,
    She was towering overhead.
    I was shaking,
    But I was smitten to the core.

    She took me by the hand,
    And we danced—
    As everything faded from view.
    It was her and I,
    Nobody else in the room.
    And we danced—

    Her touch, a silken noose,
    Binding me in a dangerous embrace.
    Her eyes, twin pools of midnight,
    Held stories of centuries past,
    Of loves lost and battles won.

    She was gone,
    As quick as she appeared.
    She was a Gothic dream.
    With lips, redder
    Than the river Styx.
    She was Nyx,
    Goddess of the Night.

    If you have made it this far and want to check out more of my poetry, you can find it [here].