"i’d Undress Your Mind First"

If You Were a Poem

By Astrum

If you were a poem,

I would read you in whispers under candlelight,

tracing every syllable like a secret I was never meant to know.

Your laughter would be italicized,

soft and leaning into the edges of midnight.

Your sorrows?

Those would be bold —

unafraid, unapologetically beautiful.

I would fold you into the corners of my journals,

tuck you beneath my breath,

and let no one but the moon know

how deeply I have memorized your lines.

You are the poem I never dared to write,

and yet somehow,

I’ve been reading you all my life.

lulling waters

It's not about how long you've known someone, but about who walked into your life, said 'I'm here for you,' and proved it."

Yours Astrum.

“I only asked for forever once”

I wasn’t asking for much, was I? Just a hand that wouldn’t let go when life got heavier than love. Just eyes that could see the mess inside me and say “stay anyway.” I only asked for forever once. Just once. But forever is expensive when people have pockets full of half-promises and hearts stitched together with exit wounds. They said “I love you” like it was currency, spent fast, forgot faster. But me? I meant every word like an oath. I carved it into my ribs — I don’t love on rental, I love like home. And maybe that’s my tragedy — giving forever to people who were only passing through. So here I am again, writing poems to ghosts, building altars out of ache, loving harder in memory than I was ever loved in real time. And yet — I’d still do it all again. Because some hearts don’t know how to love small.

I don’t want a home.

I want a heartbeat

that beats louder when it feels me near.

𝓕𝓸𝓻 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓘...

The Quiet Things We Never Say

In the hush between two heartbeats,

there lives a truth we all forget —

that love is not the grand parade,

but the quiet steps we never regret.

It’s in the hand that brushes yours

without needing a word or a name,

it’s in the eyes that stay awhile

when the world forgets your flame.

It’s not the fireworks or flawless lines,

nor promises wrapped in gold —

it’s the way we show up, soft and real,

when life turns silent, dark, and cold.

So if you’re reading this, just know:

You matter, wildly, more than you see.

You are the gentle thing in someone’s sky,

the reason their soul feels free.

Breathe. Be. Stay.

You are already the poem today.

let's observe with mama

“If you come close…”

If you come close,

I won’t ask your name first.

I’ll watch the way your eyes soften

when my voice drops lower.

I’ll let you run your fingers

through the stubble on my jaw,

but only if you understand—

I don’t kiss with lips alone.

I kiss with every unsaid word

I’ve been carrying for years.

I kiss like I’m telling secrets

no one else was patient enough to hear.

So if you come close,

don’t come to play.

Come to be devoured.

Slowly.

Thoroughly.

Like you waited your whole life

for a man who understands silence too.

so when words fail me, and there's no wind in my lungs

please know that you are it all

my salvation, my saviour, my grace

"So much soothing voice"