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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: unconditional love

  • 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.

  • The Cathedral of My Waiting

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note
    This poem is a quiet monument—an offering to the kind of love that doesn’t demand, only endures. A love that builds sacred space and stays, even in silence. It’s not a request, it’s a vow.

    For the ones who wait—not passively, but with purpose. For those who love like ivy loves ruin.

    I do not know how to unlove.
    They say to set the bird free, and if it returns—
    it was always yours.
    But I was born a chapel without doors,
    every stained-glass pane
    etched with your silhouette.
    Let the bird go?
    I only ever built sanctuaries.

    You are the altar I return to in sleep,
    the ghost that hums in my marrow.
    Even if you never kneel,
    I’ll keep lighting candles
    until wax floods the nave.

    I do not need your love
    to make mine true.
    It stands,
    a cathedral of waiting,
    each stone carved with “still,”
    each spire a vow:
    I will always stay.

    Let the years wear through my skin
    like wind through lace;
    let the world call me mad,
    clinging to shadows and half-formed hopes—
    I will still wear your name
    like a holy relic
    beneath my ribs.

    Friend or flame,
    ghost or god—
    it matters not.
    You are the shape of joy
    I bend my soul to fit.
    And I will love you
    like ivy loves ruin,
    growing into every fracture
    until even the cracks bloom.