Poetry of Devotion – Poetry by Rowan Evans

Author’s Note

This piece is a quiet confession—half shadow, half devotion. In In Her Light, I explore what it means to exist in the spaces someone else illuminates, to be tethered to their glow without asking for it, to guard what they give freely. Sometimes devotion is loud, sometimes it’s invisible; this is the latter, folded into every heartbeat and breath.

— B.D. Nightshade

Shadowed figure bathed in a single warm beam of light in a gothic room, symbolizing devotion and the interplay of shadow and illumination. — *“Existing in her light, a shadow of devotion and quiet confession.”*

In Her Light
Poetry by B.D. Nightshade

She’s the light,
I’m the shadow she casts.

I’ve always known my place—
not in the center,
not demanding attention,
just here, steady, waiting.

Every laugh she lets loose
echoes against the walls of me.
Every glance she doesn’t notice
leaves fingerprints on my chest.

I’m the quiet behind her flare,
the pulse she doesn’t feel,
but the one that steadies her steps
when the world threatens to wobble.

She doesn’t need me to shine—
but I need her light.
And if the only way to keep it safe
is to linger unseen,
then unseen I remain.

I memorize the way she breathes,
how her shadow bends against the floor,
the subtle tremble in her hands
when she’s trying not to break.

I’ve built invisible walls around her glow,
stone by stone, heartbeat by heartbeat,
so no one steals what she gives freely,
so no one dims what she can’t contain.

And still, I ache.
I ache to be more than a sentinel,
to be the warmth that touches her skin,
to be seen by her, truly.

But for now, I exist in the quiet,
folded into corners she never notices,
a whisper of devotion
she feels only when danger passes,
when chaos recedes,
when the world bows down
and leaves her whole.

I am her shadow,
but even shadows have edges.
I will guard her light,
even from myself.

Looking for more poetry? You can find it all in [The Library of Ashes].

Introduction

In the space between ruin and reverence, devotion becomes a sharp-edged hymn. This poem is a shrine to chaos, a confession in the language of fire and barbed wire. Read if you dare—fall willingly into the storm.

"Silhouetted figure kneeling in front of a woman standing under a glowing barbed wire halo, Gothic and intense imagery." — *Surrender and devotion entwined in shadow and flame – ‘Barbed Wire Halo’ by Rowan Evans.*

Barbed Wire Halo
Poetry by Rowan Evans

They say there must be something wrong with me—
because I crave the bite, the sting.
Yeah, I love it when you’re mean.
Spit your acid-laced psalms,
let them blister on my skin like holy fire.
I’ll wear the burn like a blessing.

Pain tastes like proof
when your mouth carves silence into me.
The ache is real—
and real is what I’ve been dying to feel.
So dig your nails into this paper-thin faith,
etch your name down my back like scripture.

You call me unworthy,
but damn it, that just makes me want you more—
like hunger gnawing at the bones of devotion.
A moth to the flame,
I keep flying into your ruin
just to see if I can light the dark.

Your halo is barbed wire, rusted and holy,
glinting above the curve of your devil horns.
You speak in ash and absolutes,
and I still beg you to speak again.
I kneel where your shadow spills—
sacrament in the shape of surrender.

So tear me down.
Whisper sins into the hollow of my throat.
I’ll still kiss you like salvation
when all you offer is the storm.
Because even ruin can feel like worship
when it’s you I’m falling for.

Explore the full archive here: [The Library of Ashes]

Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: Poetry of Devotion

In Her Light — A Confessional Poem by B.D. Nightshade

Barbed Wire Halo – Neo-Gothic Confessional Poetry by Rowan Evans