Author’s Note
Some conflicts don’t happen out loud.
They happen internally–quiet, persistent, and often unresolved.
This piece explores that split.
The part of me that wants connection, that wants to be seen, that recognizes something real when it finds it.
And the part that’s learned, over time, that being seen can come with consequences.
That vulnerability can lead to loss.
Neither voice is wrong.
One is driven by hope.
The other by memory.
And most of the time, they don’t reach a clean resolution.
They just… coexist.
This poem sits in that space–
between wanting to stay,
and expecting to leave.
— Rowan Evans
they happen in the silence between staying and leaving.
Before She Decides
Poetry By Rowan Evans
I sit—
split—
like I’ve got two
personalities inside.
One that wants to be seen,
and one that wants to hide.
Sometimes—
they talk
to each other.
“What are you afraid of?”
Being perceived.
You know
it’s never been easy
for me.
“But you retreat too far.”
I pull back
as much as I need.
Sometimes,
space is safety.
“That’s a lie you tell
to isolate yourself
from everyone else.”
I’m not isolating—
I’m protecting myself.
“From what?
The very thing
we want.
You’re not protecting,
you’re disappearing.”
Why can’t it be both?
“Admit it—
you’re scared.”
Scared?
I’m terrified.
You know what I feel—
you know the depths of it.
You know it’s real.
“Yes, it’s real.
It’s new. It’s beautiful.
It’s nothing to be scared of.”
Nothing?
Let me remind you
of our history—
the string of people
that left
because of our vulnerability.
“But they’re not her.
She hasn’t left—”
Yet.
What about when
she gets sick of us?
Because we’re too loud,
too weird,
too honest.
“Maybe.
But she’s still here.
And for once—
I don’t want to run
before she decides.”
For a moment—
neither of them speaks.
Just silence—
stretched thin
between wanting to stay
and expecting to leave.
If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]
Poetry by Rowan Evans 