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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: self-love

  • Mahal Ko Ako – A Fierce Love Poem by Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This poem is me claiming my lane—and hers. Some love isn’t gentle. Some love doesn’t whisper. Some love says fuck off to anyone who dares mess with the person you care about.

    It’s about seeing yourself, owning your power, and then using it to carve out a safe, unshakable space for someone else. It’s protective. It’s fierce. It’s loyal. And yes… it’s a little bit savage, because sometimes love has to be.

    Consider it a love letter, a shield, and a warning—all rolled into one.

    Warm firelight reflecting on an urban driveway at night, symbolizing protection and fierce devotion.
    Some love protects. Some love roars. Mahal Ko Ako – Rowan Evans.

    Mahal Ko Ako
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    They think I don’t really like myself,
    because I sometimes say I hate myself—
    but really, I’m always feeling myself.

    So I’ll say it simply—mahal ko ako,
    I’m somebody nobody can fuck with.

    Trust me, I know—pangit ako,
    I didn’t just forget; I own a mirror.
    I know what I look like,
    but I know what I can give.

    So when you think something cruel,
    I’ll say it before you can.
    I’ll take that power away from you.
    A bully with no power—
    they’re just noise.

    Now—let’s switch focus.

    Yeah—
    I’m looking at you, asshole.
    You add stress on her.
    Unnecessary stress.

    Me?
    I ease the storm.
    Give her a safe place
    to rest.

    When her world caves in,
    who does she run to?

    Here’s a hint:
    it isn’t you.

    And just so we’re clear—
    when you fuck up, I hear about it.
    Like when you said…

    You liked her for her dominance?
    But her attitude is too much?
    That’s a skill issue.

    Are you a man or a boy?
    Sounds like…
    You’re a little bitch.

    Then, with such audacity,
    you said she was too pretty—
    that no white guy would like her
    because she’s “not exotic enough.”

    Hi—white guy here.
    And I’m white,
    as fresh snow.
    I like her just fine.
    Exactly as she is.

    One more thing—
    “Exotic”? Not for people, asshole.
    That’s for cars only.

    Fuck you.
    Have a nice day.

    For more of my poetry, you can find it here: The Library of Ashes

  • Finding Confidence in a Single Moment – Poem by Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Sometimes the words we repeat aren’t ours.
    Tonight, in a single snapshot, I found the ones that finally belong…

    A picture of Me (Rowan Evans)!
    Took a picture. Looked at it. Thought… yup, I’m really fine.

    Damn, I’m Fine
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I’ve been saying I’m ugly for a while now,
    but I’m starting to think—
    those words were never mine.
    Because I took a picture tonight,
    and for the first time,
    I thought… damn, I’m fine.

    For my full collection of poems, check the archives here: [The Library of Ashes]

  • X Marks the Spot – A Poetic Exploration of Love, Self, and Liminality

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This piece comes from a place of vulnerability, liminality, and admiration. The Tagalog phrases woven throughout are not mine by heritage—they are borrowed from a language and culture I deeply respect and love. I am an unseasoned human—what I’m saying is—(I’m white)—learning, listening, and witnessing, not claiming.

    The poem captures the ache of unrequited love, the quiet storms of thought, and the struggle between self-perception and self-acceptance. It’s an honest snapshot of a mind caught between calm and panic, between longing and reverence, and ultimately, between fear and love.

    I offer it as a small testament: to the languages that shape us, to the people who inspire us, and to the inner worlds we carry with us every day.

    — Rowan Evans

    Person in a dimly lit, ethereal space, surrounded by glowing threads representing thoughts and inner turmoil.
    Caught in liminal space—threads of thought, longing, and quiet intensity swirl around.

    X Marks the Spot
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I’ve been in this—
    liminal space for days.
    Thoughts static.
    Somewhere between
    calm and panic.

    I’m trying to work it out,
    trying to get out of it.
    So let me try to explain
    a little of what’s been
    running through my brain.

    I’m in love—
    God, I’ve never felt like this before.
    I’m in love,
    and I can’t stand it.
    Her name hums in my blood;
    I can’t escape it.
    She doesn’t feel the same,
    and maybe that’s the ache I was born for.

    So here I sit,
    my thoughts rain
    on my parade.
    I’m just trying to pretend
    like I’m okay.
    I look in the mirror,
    at the face I hate.
    Pangit ako, that’s all I can say.
    Just wishing I could go away—
    get out of my head for
    a fucking day.

    Vacay.
    Vacate.
    Just leave.

    I’m done begging for release.
    I’ve got amnesia—forgot how to say (please?)
    So they say I lost my manners.
    Nah, I’ve lost my mind.
    And I’m struggling to find
    the letter before Z—(the why?)
    Like X marks the spot.

    But I’m in love,
    and that’s what keeps me going.
    I’m in love with the visual of a glowing stove top.
    What I’m saying is—(she’s hot.)
    And I know I don’t stand a chance.
    She’s MLB, and I’m just Double A.
    What I’m saying is—(she’s out of my league.)

    Body like an astronaut—
    she’s out of this world.
    And I’ve got a face,
    like I came from outer space.
    What I’m saying is—(I’m ugly.)

    It’s okay, I know I’m not ugly…
    Not really. (Don’t be silly.)
    Because I’m hot when I rhyme,
    but I only rhyme sometimes.
    Like when I look at my wrist—
    watch, I’ve got time. (Get it? Wrist watch.)

    Pangit ako, pero mahal ko talaga ang sarili ko.

    If you didn’t understand
    what I just said…

    What I’m saying is—
    I am ugly, but I really do love myself.

    Journey into the Hexverse

    [Liminal Static]
    A flickering descent into the space between thought and stillness — where static hums, visions fade, and reason trembles at the edge of dream.

    [Exhibit of Survival]
    A raw reflection on resilience, empathy, and the strength to stay soft despite adversity. Rowan Evans shares their journey of surviving doubt, heartbreak, and internal battles while keeping their heart open to love and connection.

    [22 Confessions]
    A minimalist exploration of truths, confessions, and self-reflection—one poem for every year I (Rowan Evans) have been writing. Some are small. Some are unbearable. All are mine.

  • Perfectly Imperfect: A Poem About Loving Someone as They Are | Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Perfection is not about erasing cracks, hiding shadows, or smoothing edges until nothing is left. It’s about recognizing the light that lives within the cracks, the beauty that thrives alongside the flaws.

    This poem is for anyone who has been told they’re “too much,” “not enough,” or “broken.” You are all of it — and still worthy of being loved exactly as you are. And sometimes, being perfect is less about the world seeing it, and more about the one person who truly does.

    “Moonlight illuminates golden cracks in a weathered stone, symbolizing the beauty in imperfection and inner light.”
    “Even the cracks hold light — a reminder that perfection is found in the perfectly imperfect.”

    Perfect — For Me
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    When I say you’re perfect,
    I don’t mean you have no flaws.

    When I say you’re perfect,
    I mean you’re perfectly imperfect—
    Your flaws mirror mine.

    When I say you’re perfect,
    I mean you’re perfectly imperfect…
    and that’s beautifully divine.

    When I say you’re perfect,
    what I really mean is…
    you’re perfect —
    for me.

    If this piece resonated with you—check out more of my work in The Library of Ashes, my living archives.