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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: relationships

  • Her Story – A Poem About Insecurity, Possessiveness & Honoring a Woman’s Past

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Her Story was born from frustration — not with women, but with the men who turn a woman’s past into a personal insult. This poem confronts the insecurity, entitlement, and emotional immaturity that drive so many men to treat a woman’s history like a threat instead of a testament to her strength.

    This piece isn’t about blame; it’s about perspective. A woman’s story is not a competition, not a purity test, not a battlefield for fragile egos. It is something to honor — not to resent.

    I wrote this to challenge that mindset, to hold a mirror to possessiveness disguised as devotion, and to remind anyone who needs to hear it that a woman owes no one an apology for having lived before you. She owes no one her silence. She owes no one her shame. She owes you nothing.

    — Rowan Evans

    Illustration of a woman in profile with handwritten text layered inside her silhouette and a warm halo of light behind her, representing her past and resilience.
    A woman’s story is not a threat — it’s something to honor.

    Her Story
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Why do some guys
    get so hung up on the past?
    Why do you care so much,
    what happened before you?
    So what she’s lived a life before—
    oh no, someone wanted to make her their wife before.
    I’m so jealous, watch me act out, get hellish.
    Nah, I’m just playin’, just joking around—
    Because it’s not about the past for me,
    getting that hung up on her before…
    that’s blasphemy.

    So if you can, answer me this…
    why do so many guys get pissed?
    Yeah, she has experiences—
    that you can’t touch.
    They happened before you,
    why let them affect you so much?

    Why does her story
    feel like a threat
    instead of a lesson
    that she’s survived,
    lived, loved, lost—
    and still chose you
    in this moment?

    Why does her story
    make you small,
    when it should make you honored
    to be part of the chapter
    she won’t have to rewrite?

    Why do you police her scars
    as if she owes you
    purity, silence,
    a spotless record
    to soothe your ego?

    You want devotion
    but shudder at evidence
    that she lived
    before your shadow
    ever touched her skin.

    But here’s the truth:
    A woman with a past
    isn’t a warning label—
    she’s a masterpiece
    restoring herself.
    And if that scares you,
    it’s not her history
    you’re terrified of—
    it’s your own reflection.

    It’s because you don’t feel worth—
    the attention, or affection.
    You don’t feel like you
    can handle her truth.
    You can’t honor what she’s been through,
    so it weighs on you, and it weighs heavy.
    You do what you can to
    try and prove
    you’re ready.

    But you’re not.
    You’re just like every other guy,
    sitting back, asking why?
    Why not me?
    I’ve been,
    nice as can be.
    Sounding like she owes you something,
    but the truth is—
    She owes you nothing.

    If you enjoyed Her Story, you can feel free to explore The Library of Ashes…

  • I Love You (Enough to Learn You) – Vow III: Understanding | Neo-Gothic Confessional Romanticism Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    The Vows began as an exploration of devotion — not the romanticized kind, but the kind forged in ache, honesty, and reverence.

    Vow I was surrender: letting the ink run dry, allowing love to unmake what was hardened.
    Vow II was endurance: the willingness to break, to bear the bruise and still remain.
    And Vow III — this final vow — is understanding: the quiet promise to listen, to learn, and to love without translation.

    Together, they form a trinity of intimacy — the heart’s slow evolution from sacrifice to fluency, from bleeding to belonging.

    This isn’t a story of martyrdom. It’s a story of witnessing: of meeting someone’s soul and saying, I see you, I’ll learn you, I’ll speak your language.
    That is the purest vow I know.

    — Rowan Evans

    “Two hands nearly touching through candlelight over scattered handwritten vows and ink-stained pages — symbolizing understanding and emotional intimacy.”
    “The final vow — not of silence or breaking, but of becoming fluent in another’s heart.” — Rowan Evans

    I Love You (Enough to Learn You)
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I’d let the ink run dry,
    then I’d break willingly.
    That was vow one,
    and vow two.
    This is vow three—for you.

    I love you enough
    to put you first—
    to make you a priority
    in my life.
    Everyone else be damned,
    I will—

    learn your language,
    learn the nuance,
    so you can speak freely,
    say exactly what you need.

    I will learn the cadence of your world,
    so I can understand—
    not to change you,
    but to meet you where you are.

    I love you enough to listen
    when words falter,
    to read what your silence says
    when your voice can’t.

    I’ll make a home in your pauses,
    a temple in your sighs.
    You gave me peace—
    so I’ll give you peace of mind.

    I’ll give you understanding—
    that’s vow three.
    Not of silence,
    not of breaking,
    but of becoming fluent
    in your heart.

    The Silent Vows

    [I Love You (Enough to Go Silent)]
    A vow written in ink and silence — a confession of love so deep it would sacrifice its own voice to spare another’s tears. “I Love You (Enough to Go Silent)” is a Neo-Gothic devotion from Rowan Evans, where the act of not speaking becomes the loudest declaration of love.

    [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.