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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: romantic poetry

  • Maybe You’ll Want Me Too | A Poem About Affection, Attachment, and Being Chosen

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Some poems arrive because of a grand idea.

    Others arrive because a single sentence refuses to leave.

    This was one of those.

    The poem began when I remembered a conversation. A joke, really. Someone once described themselves as being “like a drug” and we laughed about it. At the time, it felt playful, exaggerated, harmless.

    But memory has a way of revisiting things from a different angle.

    When I thought about that conversation later, I realized what interested me wasn’t the comparison itself. It was the experience of slowly realizing that someone has become part of your everyday thoughts without you noticing exactly when it happened.

    One day they’re simply someone you know.

    Then they’re someone you think about.

    Then they’re someone who quietly occupies space in your mind when nothing else is demanding your attention.

    The drug metaphor gave me a doorway into the poem, but it isn’t really what the poem is about.

    It’s about affection.

    It’s about attachment.

    It’s about the strange vulnerability of admitting that someone matters.

    More than that, it’s about the difference between being needed and being wanted.

    Need can feel transactional.

    Want feels chosen.

    The final lines became the emotional center for me because they capture a hope I think many people carry but rarely say aloud:

    Not that someone has to stay.

    Not that someone owes us their attention.

    Just that maybe, if given the choice, they would choose us too.

    Like a lot of my recent work, humor and metaphor show up first. They’re familiar territory. They’re comfortable. They make difficult things easier to approach.

    But beneath the jokes, the poem is doing what many of my poems eventually do.

    It’s confessing.

    — Rowan Evans

    A solitary figure standing beneath glowing city lights as colorful streams of light drift through the air, symbolizing affection, attachment, and lingering thoughts of someone special
    Sometimes affection arrives quietly—slipping into your thoughts until you realize someone has become part of your everyday world. ✨

    Maybe You’ll Want Me Too
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I remember when you said—
    you are like a drug.

    It was all laughs
    about your exes being hooked,
    still shook by the thoughts of you.

    But I was getting second-hand
    contact highs—

    now I feel addicted too.

    It’s like you’re in my bloodstream.
    You’ve rewired my brain,
    rebalanced the chemical compounds—
    you’re in nearly every single thought now.

    I try to hide it behind metaphors
    and jokes—an attempt to mask
    the fragile hope—

    that you won’t need me,
    but maybe you’ll want me too.

    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [Recognizes Home]
    A free-verse poem exploring the difference between love as dependency and love as choice. It challenges the idea that love must be need-based, instead centering the quiet strength of choosing someone while still remaining whole on your own.

    [Not Rebuilding You]
    A poem about love as an act of presence rather than rescue. Through construction imagery, Not Rebuilding You explores trust, devotion, emotional safety, and the quiet work of building a foundation strong enough for healing to grow.

    [The Language Her Soul Speaks]
    What if love isn’t about being understood, but learning to understand someone else? “The Language Her Soul Speaks” is a free verse poem about intimacy, communication, curiosity, and the desire to know another person beyond the limits of language.

    [Ocean Waves (1, 4, 3)]
    A moonlit shoreline, a rowboat full of ducks, a piggybank with no cents, and a confession hidden in plain sight. Ocean Waves (1, 4, 3) explores how humor, wordplay, and absurdity can become a side door to vulnerability when the truth feels too difficult to say directly.

    [L Words & Heart]
    A moonlit shoreline, a rowboat full of ducks, a piggybank with no cents, and a confession hidden in plain sight. Ocean Waves (1, 4, 3) explores how humor, wordplay, and absurdity can become a side door to vulnerability when the truth feels too difficult to say directly.

    If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]

  • Not Rebuilding You | A Poem About Love, Trust, Healing, and Building Safe Foundations

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Some poems arrive all at once.

    This one arrived in pieces.

    The opening came first—a joke, a banana peel, a little bit of wordplay and self-awareness. The speaker trips over their own feelings and tries to laugh about it before anyone notices.

    That’s fairly normal for me.

    Humor has always been one of the ways I approach vulnerability. Not because the feelings aren’t real, but because sometimes honesty becomes easier to hold when it’s carrying a joke.

    But somewhere during the writing process, the poem shifted.

    The focus stopped being the speaker’s feelings and became the person receiving them.

    Because love, at least the kind I’m interested in writing about, isn’t ownership.

    It isn’t rescue.

    It isn’t fixing someone.

    It’s creating safety.

    The construction imagery in the second half comes from that idea. The speaker isn’t trying to rebuild another person or erase their past. They’re trying to create something steady. Something reliable. A place where another person can set down their fears for a while and rest.

    That distinction matters to me.

    Too many love stories focus on saving someone.

    I’m more interested in what happens when you simply show up, consistently, and help build conditions where healing becomes possible.

    Brick by brick.

    Choice by choice.

    Day by day.

    The final lines grew from a belief I’ve carried for a long time:

    Everyone deserves a future that feels safe to stand inside.

    Everyone deserves foundations that don’t shake beneath them.

    And sometimes the greatest gift we can offer another person isn’t a promise to save them.

    It’s a promise to help build something that lasts.

    — Rowan Evans

    A new foundation being built beside old ruins at twilight, symbolizing healing, trust, and creating a safe future through love.
    Sometimes love isn’t about fixing what’s broken. Sometimes it’s about laying a foundation strong enough for someone to finally rest without fear of collapse. 🖤🧱✨

    Not Rebuilding You
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    It happened quick.
    I slipped—
    banana peel.
    But you can trust me,
    I think I’ve proven that, (huh?)
    so you know
    you can trust
    what I feel is real.

    From the fear
    to devotion,
    loyalty in motion—
    I try to give you no reason
    to question.

    And you don’t need
    to return this.
    This isn’t a library,
    no overdue charge—
    just a gift straight from my heart,
    that I give with purpose.

    And if you’re wondering
    why I give like this…

    You’re worth it.

    I’d move earth,
    shift dirt—
    excavate
    to stop the hurt.
    Prepare the land
    for a new foundation.

    So let me lay brick after brick,
    patience in every layer,
    hope in every line.
    Not rebuilding you—
    just building a place
    where you can finally rest
    without fear of collapse.

    And if it takes time,
    I’m not afraid of slow miracles—

    because love like this
    isn’t renovation—
    it’s resurrection.

    A clearing of old ruins,
    a promise carved into the earth:
    you deserve a future
    that doesn’t hurt to stand on.

    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [The Language Her Soul Speaks]
    What if love isn’t about being understood, but learning to understand someone else? “The Language Her Soul Speaks” is a free verse poem about intimacy, communication, curiosity, and the desire to know another person beyond the limits of language.

    [Ocean Waves (1, 4, 3)]
    A moonlit shoreline, a rowboat full of ducks, a piggybank with no cents, and a confession hidden in plain sight. Ocean Waves (1, 4, 3) explores how humor, wordplay, and absurdity can become a side door to vulnerability when the truth feels too difficult to say directly.

    [L Words & Heart]
    A playful, self-aware poem about love, longing, loyalty, and the quiet ways another person can reshape our inner world. What begins as humor slowly reveals a heartfelt confession about affection, imagination, and the faces that linger in our dreams.

    If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]

  • Ocean Waves (1, 4, 3) | A Love Poem About Humor, Vulnerability & Hidden Confessions

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This poem began as a collection of bad jokes.

    Or at least that was the excuse.

    Sometimes I start writing with no destination in mind. A phrase appears. Then a pun. Then another. A moon becomes a metaphor. Ducks end up in a rowboat. A piggybank loses all its cents.

    And somewhere in the middle of all that nonsense, something honest sneaks in.

    I’ve noticed that humor often works like a side door.

    There are things I can say directly. There are things I can say through poetry. And then there are things that feel easier to approach sideways, hidden beneath wordplay, jokes, and absurd little detours.

    This piece lives in that space.

    The speaker keeps drifting away from the point, circling it rather than naming it. Every joke becomes a delay tactic. Every pun buys another moment before the truth has to be spoken aloud.

    Because sometimes vulnerability isn’t difficult because you don’t know what you feel.

    Sometimes it’s difficult because you know exactly what you feel.

    And saying it out loud makes it real.

    The title’s parenthetical reference, “1, 4, 3,” comes from an old numerical shorthand for a phrase many people know by heart. I liked the idea of building an entire poem around avoiding a confession, only to hide it in plain sight.

    In the end, the poem says exactly what it means.

    It just takes the scenic route to get there.

    — Rowan Evans

    A solitary figure stands on a moonlit beach beside gentle ocean waves while silver moonlight reflects across the water beneath a glowing night sky.
    Sometimes the longest journey to the truth is the scenic route—through moonlight, wordplay, ocean waves, and all the jokes we tell before we finally say what we mean.

    Ocean Waves (1, 4, 3)
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I stand on the shore
    giving ocean waves—
    begging the tide
    to take me away.

    I trace the moon
    across the sky,
    I map it in rhyme.
    Line after—
    silver-lined metaphor.

    I got my ducks in a row
    boat—is that what the paddles for?
    I know the direction,
    what would I panic for?

    You might be confused—
    I know that made no sense,
    like an empty piggybank.
    No cents, thoughts scattered
    like loose change.

    I use jokes
    to mask the truth sometimes.

    It makes what I want to say,
    an easier pill to swallow—

    1 letter
    followed by 4
    then 3—

    Together, they mean
    you mean the most to me.
    By your side—

    is where I’m supposed to be.

    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [1-4-3]
    A poem about love that isn’t rooted in need, but in choice. About finding safety not as a cage, but as a place where fear finally stops running—and stays.

    [1-4-3 (Tongue Tied)]
    A vulnerable poem about holding back the words that matter most. 1-4-3 (Tongue Tied) explores fear, emotional suppression, and the quiet ache of wanting to say “I love you.”

    [What I Want to Say]
    Sometimes the hardest words to say are the simplest ones. What I Want to Say explores love, hesitation, and the fear of what might change if you finally speak.

    [No Parachute]
    A poetic reflection on falling in love without hesitation—raw, uncertain, and without a safety net.

    If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]

  • Give Her Your Words Instead | A Poem About Love, Originality, and Honest Expression

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This piece was supposed to be a diss poem.

    Seriously.

    I started writing with the intention of poking fun at the endless parade of “Roses are red, violets are blue” poems that seem to recycle the same handful of ideas over and over again. The opening lines still carry some of that energy. They’re impatient. Slightly sarcastic. A little annoyed with how often people settle for the familiar when language can do so much more.

    But somewhere along the way, the poem changed directions.

    Instead of criticizing the cliché, I started asking why it feels like one.

    And I think the answer is simple:

    It’s not that the format is the problem.

    It’s that too often we borrow someone else’s words when our own would mean more.

    Love isn’t memorable because it’s perfectly phrased. It becomes memorable because it’s specific. Personal. Honest.

    Nobody falls in love with a template.

    They fall in love with the details.

    The shimmer of moonlight on water. The way someone’s voice changes when they’re excited. The strange contradictions of affection—how a person can make you feel stronger and weaker at the same time.

    Those things belong to you.

    The final lines became the heart of the piece for me because they move beyond parody and into something sincere.

    Don’t give someone borrowed language.

    Don’t hand them a greeting card version of your feelings.

    Give them your words.

    Give them the truth of you.

    — Rowan Evans

    Moonlight reflecting across dark water beside an open notebook and pen, symbolizing love, poetry, and authentic self-expression.
    “Don’t give someone borrowed language. Give them your words instead.” — A poem about authenticity, romance, and the details that make love unforgettable.

    Give Her Your Words Instead
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Roses are red,
    violets are blue—
    and so am I, too.
    Because your originality
    is growing old—
    your thoughts,
    are all cliché.

    I feel like I’ve
    read this all before.
    Roses are red—
    it’s been said and done,
    over and over.
    Too many times to count.

    It’s a quick start,
    not a spark—
    has no heart.

    You could do more.

    You could talk about
    the shimmer of the moon,
    over dark water—

    the way its reflection
    trembles—
    like my knees
    when she walks in.

    How the heart flutters
    like butterfly wings,
    whenever she speaks.

    She gives me strength.
    She is the spinach
    to my Popeye muscles.

    And yet—
    she makes me weak.
    She’s the kryptonite
    to my Kent.

    All I’m saying is—
    don’t give
    her roses of red,
    give her your words instead.

    No violets of blue,
    just the truth of you.

    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [Violets Are Violet (Roses Are Complicated)]
    A simple observation leads to an absurd conclusion: violets aren’t blue, roses aren’t always red, and the classic love poem may be far less accurate than advertised. A humorous free-verse poem about overthinking, flower symbolism, and the unintended consequences of analyzing clichés too closely.

    If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]

  • L Words & Heart | A Poem About Love, Longing, Loyalty & Being Seen

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This piece began as a joke.

    Or at least, I thought it did.

    The opening voice is intentionally playful—awkward, self‑deprecating, a little chaotic, prone to wandering off into side comments before finding its way back again. In many ways, it feels closer to how I actually think than some of my more polished or serious pieces.

    But underneath the humor is something sincere.

    I’ve never been particularly good at saying important things directly. Sometimes vulnerability arrives disguised as a joke. Sometimes affection hides behind wordplay. Sometimes the safest way to admit what you’re feeling is to make someone laugh first.

    The title comes from a simple realization: when I think about certain people, my thoughts tend to orbit the same things.

    Love. Longing. Loyalty.

    The L words.

    And heart.

    The final section is intentionally quieter than everything that comes before it. The jokes fall away, the distractions disappear, and what remains is the truth the speaker was circling the entire time: the way another person can take up space in your imagination, your creativity, and your inner world long before they ever occupy the same physical space.

    Sometimes affection doesn’t arrive as grand declarations.

    Sometimes it arrives as a face that appears when you close your eyes.
    A voice you hear in silence.
    A shoreline you keep finding in your dreams.

    — Rowan Evans

    A solitary figure standing on a moonlit shoreline while waves roll in beneath a dreamy twilight sky.
    Some people arrive in your thoughts quietly—then somehow become part of every dream, every poem, and every beat of your heart.

    L Words & Heart
    Poetry by Rowan Evan

    I’m just a quirky, mother—
    not a fighter, but a lover.
    I’m not brave or whatever,
    I bite tongues,
    holding words like lips
    with padlocks.

    I’ve never been a fan of change,
    but I want things to change—
    I want my life rearranged,
    I want to be seen as normal
    not strange—
    I want to be me
    and accepted,
    because I’m not as strange
    as you think—
    I’ve seen Stranger Things.

    (Actually, no I haven’t.
    I never got into the show.
    But I digress…)

    I’ve got things I want to say,
    got things I want you to know.

    When I think about you
    it’s all L words and heart,
    you reshaped my art.
    So I close my eyes
    and I see your face.
    In silence, I hear your voice—
    and in dreams I walk your shores.

    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [Just Beyond Waking]
    A street that feels familiar. A life that hasn’t happened yet. Just Beyond Waking explores the fragile space between dreams, memory, longing, and the quiet feeling that some futures are already waiting for us.

    [Twin Suns, Sister Moons]
    A poem about distance, longing, and the quiet pull of someone who lives beneath a different sky. Between twin suns and sister moons, the heart keeps reaching for home.

    [It’s You I Choose]
    A poem about devotion, vulnerability, and the quiet decision to stay. Sometimes love isn’t certainty—it is choosing someone anyway.

    If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]

  • Just Beyond Waking | A Poem About Dreams, Destiny, and Future Love

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This piece came from the feeling of recognizing something before you fully understand it.

    Not memory exactly.
    Not déjà vu.
    Something softer and stranger than that.

    I’ve always been fascinated by those moments where emotion arrives before explanation—when a place, a person, or a feeling seems deeply familiar even though you know you’ve never truly experienced it before. Like your mind is brushing against a future version of your life before you’ve physically reached it.

    That became the emotional center of this poem.

    The shifting between bedroom and street, dream and waking, reality and unreality, was meant to feel unstable on purpose. I wanted the speaker to exist in that liminal space where certainty dissolves and longing becomes vivid enough to feel almost tangible.

    Humidity became important while writing too. It creates this physical heaviness throughout the piece—something atmospheric and emotional at the same time. The world feels thick with anticipation, almost electrically alive, as if reality itself is trying to push through the veil separating possibility from arrival.

    And then there’s the ending.

    What mattered to me most was that the final realization isn’t framed as destiny in some grand cosmic sense. It’s quieter than that. More human.

    Not:
    “I remembered her.”

    But:
    “I’m becoming someone capable of reaching that life.”

    That distinction changes everything.

    Because the poem ultimately isn’t about escaping reality.

    It’s about slowly awakening into a future version of yourself that already exists somewhere just beyond fear, distance, uncertainty, and waiting.

    And sometimes the first glimpse of that future arrives like a dream before it arrives like a life.

    — Rowan Evans

    A solitary figure stands on a humid city street as a woman emerges through a dreamlike haze of light and atmosphere.
    Some futures arrive first as dreams, waiting quietly just beyond waking.

    Just Beyond Waking
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I stood on an unfamiliar street,
    feeling unfamiliar heat—
    skin sweat‑slick.
    I was lost in thought,
    stuck in that spot.
    The air around me buzzed,
    electric with the hum
    of life moving past.

    I’ve felt this before—
    but was it
    dream or memory?
    I don’t know.
    Can’t be sure
    anymore.

    Vision shifts as I drift,
    street fading into bedroom walls.
    The bustling street’s noise—
    just music in my headphones.
    Blink and I’m back again,
    don’t know what to think,
    don’t know what’s happening.

    Back on that unfamiliar street,
    I feel the pull creep—
    so I begin to move my feet,
    one step and then another,
    one foot and then the other.

    Reality is shifting,
    I’m losing grip—
    I’m slipping.
    Don’t know what’s the dream,
    and what’s me
    awakening.

    I trip and stumble,
    almost tumble into the street—
    catch myself at the last second,
    clutching the wall
    as if I might drift away.

    Then I hear it.
    A sound, an echo—
    a voice piercing the silence.
    Eyes scan the room
    as humidity creeps
    across my skin.

    I struggle
    to pull in a breath,
    and again
    the sounds of the city
    surround me.
    Again I’m back
    on that same street—

    but I’m no longer alone.

    As my eyes focus,
    slowly she comes into view.
    A gentle smile
    spreads across her lips—
    a soft touch on my arm,
    a line traced by her fingertips.

    The city hums around us,
    alive, waiting.
    And something in her silence
    steadies the world—
    not familiar,
    but right.
    Not remembered,
    but meant.

    And in that moment
    I understand—
    this isn’t memory,
    isn’t dream,
    but the first soft glimpse
    of a life
    I’m still walking toward,
    waiting for me
    just beyond waking.

    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [Twin Suns, Sister Moons]
    A poem about distance, longing, and the quiet pull of someone who lives beneath a different sky. Between twin suns and sister moons, the heart keeps reaching for home.

    [It’s You I Choose]
    A poem about devotion, vulnerability, and the quiet decision to stay. Sometimes love isn’t certainty—it is choosing someone anyway.

    If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]

  • I’ll Be There to See Your Sunrise | Love, Vulnerability & Staying Present

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Love has always felt heavy to me.

    Not in a bad way— just in a real way.

    I don’t connect lightly, and I don’t fall into feelings easily. So when I do care about someone deeply, it feels enormous. Like something inside me permanently shifts shape around them.

    That can be beautiful.

    It can also be terrifying.

    This piece came from realizing that vulnerability isn’t just saying “I love you.” Sometimes vulnerability is choosing to stay present after you realize someone has the power to hurt you.

    Not because they want to.

    Just because love makes that possible.

    But I think there’s something important about choosing connection anyway.

    Not idealizing someone. Not expecting perfection. Not asking them to heal you.

    Just deciding that the fear of losing connection shouldn’t matter more than the connection itself.

    There’s also a quiet promise buried in this piece.

    A promise to stop drifting when things become emotionally overwhelming. A promise to stay long enough to witness someone fully. To see them in daylight, not just darkness.

    Sometimes love isn’t rescue.

    Sometimes it’s simply saying:

    “I’m here. And I’ll still be here when the sun comes up.”

    — Rowan Evans

    A shadowed figure watching the sunrise through a window as warm morning light begins to fill the room.
    Sometimes love is not rescue—it’s choosing to stay long enough to see the sun rise.

    I’ll Be There to See Your Sunrise
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Dim the lights
    and close the blinds—

    I’m going to be
    honest for a minute,
    I don’t love easily.

    It’s not that I’m afraid.
    I’m not scared to love.

    It just doesn’t come
    without fees for me,
    it costs me something
    every time—I leave a piece
    of my heart behind.

    But the truth is—
    I never really felt love like that,
    everything was just a crush
    until you, that is.

    You—
    who resides in my thoughts now,
    who changed the way
    I see myself somehow.

    And the truth is—
    you didn’t do a thing, not really,
    you just made it safe
    to be honest.

    And I’ll be honest—
    I check your skies,
    before my own.

    The only thing that scares me
    is how much I care,
    that you can hurt me—

    and I’m hyperaware.

    But that’s not fair to you,
    to brace for ache
    when you carry your own pain—

    so even if I’m scared,
    I’ve got to face my fears.

    I’ve got to stay—
    I can’t let myself drift away.

    And I remember—
    you said I met you mid night,
    and the hope I’d see you
    in day light’s shine.

    This is my promise
    to be there,
    to witness it—

    I promise.
    I’ll be there
    to see your sunrise.

    Journey into the Hexverse...

    [Before We Created the Labels]
    Ancient gods return to a fractured world shaped by borders, identities, and separation. “Before We Created the Labels” explores humanity’s divisions through mythic imagery, sacred ritual, and symbolic collapse—asking what remains when we learn to see one another beyond labels.

    [The Unkindness Descends]
    “The Unkindness Descends” is a Gothic symbolic poem exploring collapse, transformation, and the unsettling experience of being witnessed during moments of unraveling. Through raven imagery, ambiguity, and ritualistic atmosphere, the poem invites multiple interpretations—spiritual, psychological, ominous, or transformative.

    [I Write Cathedrals]
    “I Write Cathedrals” explores faith, doubt, belonging, and the search for meaning beyond certainty. Through Gothic spiritual imagery and confessional reflection, the poem examines how writing can become a sacred space for questioning, wonder, and the people who feel displaced by traditional structures of belief.

    [Drought Resistant]
    “Drought Resistant” is a confessional poem about growing up poor in California’s Central Valley—where triple-digit heat, EBT cycles, dry ramen, and hard landscapes become part of emotional memory. Blending humor, slang, and working-class reflection, the poem explores survival, regional identity, and complicated love for the place that shaped you.

    [Escaped to the Page]
    “Escaped to the Page” is a confessional meta-poem about individuality, artistic identity, and surviving through writing. Blending sharp confidence with emotional vulnerability, the poem explores the difference between shared labels and lived experience—and the ways art becomes inseparable from the life behind it.

    [Ink as a Second Mouth]
    “Ink as a Second Mouth” explores the distance between thought and speech, and the ways writing can become a form of survival, continuity, and self-translation. Through confessional imagery and reflections on growth, identity, and articulation, the poem examines what it means to keep becoming through language.

    If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]

  • When I Started to Fall for You – A Poem About Deep Love

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This piece is about the kind of love that reshapes your internal world.

    Not suddenly, all at once–but gradually, in the quiet moments. In the way someone becomes part of your thoughts without effort. In the way their presence lingers, even in their absence.

    It explores the beauty and intensity of that feeling–how it can comfort, overwhelm, and transform all at the same time.

    To fall for someone is to risk change.
    To embrace it is to accept that you won’t be the same after.

    — Rowan Evans

    A person watching a sunrise, representing love, warmth, and emotional connection
    Love doesn’t arrive all at once—it unfolds.

    When I Started to Fall for You
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    When I started to fall for you,
    the world shifted and swayed.
    You became the dawn’s first whisper,
    the sun’s embrace at play.
    From the moment I awaken,
    your name graces my lips.
    in the quiet of the morning,
    where dreams and daylight eclipse.

    You became my sole obsession,
    my every thought unfurled.
    The last flicker of my mind,
    as night wraps up the world.
    Each heartbeat echoes your laughter,
    a melody so sweet,
    a symphony of silence
    that pulls me from my seat.

    In the shadows of my longing,
    your essence fills the air,
    I’ll learn your hidden stories—
    every secret that you bear.
    With every shared confession,
    I’ve mapped the stars in your eyes.
    Crafting constellations of love,
    beneath the velvet skies.

    To see your smile is magic,
    a light that ignites my soul—
    a balm for all my scars,
    it makes my weary heart whole.
    Your voice is the thunder,
    soothing storms that rage within.
    A gentle force of nature,
    calming the chaos
    with your skin.

    Your presence is a sanctuary,
    a refuge from my fears.
    In your arms,
    I’ve found my shelter—
    a harbor for my tears.
    When shadows stretched and whispered,
    and weariness took its toll.
    You were the hearth of comfort,
    where I could rest my soul.

    When I started to fall for you—
    I let the world fade away
    with every fleeting moment,
    I’ve cherished what you say.
    For in the depths of falling—
    I find a truth so rare…

    my heart will always wander,
    but with you—it finds its lair.

    Journey into the Hexverse

    [To Whom It May Concern…] (3/20)

    A raw exploration of vulnerability, fear, and self-sabotage—this poem captures the struggle between wanting to be seen and the instinct to hide.

    [Weathered] (3/21)

    A deeply introspective poem about confronting fear, breaking patterns, and choosing to stand in the storm instead of running from it.

    [Same Room (Emotionally)] (3/22)

    Can you miss someone you’ve never met? This poem explores emotional connection beyond physical distance and what it means to truly feel seen.

    [No Parachute] (3/23)

    A poetic reflection on falling in love without hesitation—raw, uncertain, and without a safety net.

    [Bad Habit] (3/25)

    A powerful reflection on repetitive thought patterns, emotional loops, and the moment of realizing you’re stuck inside your own mind.

    [Same Sky] (3/26)

    A poetic meditation on longing, distance, and the quiet desire to share the same space—even when worlds apart.

    If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]

  • Eternal Current: A Poem About Timeless Love by Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This poem was written on February 17th, 2025. It explores the quiet, unspoken moments that carry immense depth – the small gestures, the glances, the eternal connection that flows between two hearts. Inspired by fleeting yet timeless intimacy, it is meant to capture love as both gentle and vast, like a river that carries everything along its current.

    — Rowan Evans

    Two figures beside a sunlit river, connected by an ethereal, flowing current symbolizing love.
    Eternal Current – love that flows timelessly, like water through the heart.

    Eternal Current
    Poetry by Rowan Evans
    (written February 17th, 2025)

    A gasp, a sigh—
    a whisper low,
    your eyes shine,
    with sun and moon’s glow.
    A touch, a flame,
    a silent truth,
    and the world fades
    when I see you.

    Promises carved
    in midnight skies,
    where the heart beats once,
    but never dies.
    This love, like a river—
    endless, wide,
    where two souls drift,
    forever entwined.

    If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]

  • Love Like an Atom Bomb – A Poem About Explosive Love and Transformation

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This poem explores the overwhelming power of love through the language of nuclear imagery—countdowns, chain reactions, fallout, and rebirth. I was interested in the idea that love can feel both destructive and creative at the same time: something that levels the person you were, only to leave space for something entirely new to grow.

    The metaphor of an atom bomb captures that moment when emotion reaches critical mass—when attraction becomes unstoppable and the self you knew before can’t survive the impact. But even in the aftermath, there is transformation. What looks like devastation may also be the beginning of something alive.

    Sometimes the brightest forces in our lives arrive quietly, without warning, and change everything.

    — Rowan Evans

    Surreal illustration of a glowing atomic explosion transforming into blooming light and flowers, symbolizing the explosive and transformative power of love.
    Love can arrive like a chain reaction—sudden, unstoppable, and powerful enough to remake everything.

    Love Like An Atom Bomb
    Poetry by Rowan Evans
    (written Feb 23, 2025)

    I never saw it coming,
    the countdown silent, unseen—
    then your name struck like a spark,
    and in an instant, I was ground zero.

    The air trembled,
    a shockwave of heat and want,
    your voice splitting the atoms of my restraint,
    your touch igniting a fission in my bones.

    We reached critical mass—
    unstoppable, inevitable—
    love detonated in the space between our lips,
    burning away everything I was before you.

    The fallout of your smile,
    a radioactive grace,
    laced in my veins, pulsing, consuming—
    a chain reaction I can’t contain.

    And yet, from the ashes,
    where my heart was leveled and laid bare,
    new life stirs—
    a wasteland blooming in your wake.

    Tell me, was it destruction or creation?
    A beautiful catastrophe,
    a love so bright it blinds,
    so fierce it remakes the world.

    If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]