Astrum742 - Astrum

mood

I'm sorry if I'm difficult to deal with. I don't know how to deal with myself either.

"The heart that truly loves never forgets."

Astrum

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.

“come closer, but don’t flinch”

> come closer, but don’t flinch when you see the places I’ve bled quietly. I am not soft in the way you expect — I am soft like wildfire, like midnight rain that forgets to be gentle. I love like this: with cracked palms, shaking breath, and a heart too heavy to float but too stubborn to drown. if you want me, know this: I won’t promise easy, but I will promise real. raw fingertips. unhidden scars. midnight confessions no one else has ever touched. come closer. and if you stay— I’ll hand you everything I’ve ever buried under my ribs.

I had so much love for you

But u never accepted it

It's still on the shelf of my living room

In a diary of our could haves and what ifs

"I don't want perfect — I want real"

I don’t crave filtered smiles or captions dipped in sugar lies. I want the crack in your voice when you speak what no one else hears. Give me the girl whose eyeliner smudges at midnight because she was too busy chasing stars to care about the mirror. Show me the woman who laughs like thunder, cries like poetry, loves like fire and walks away from games without flinching. I don’t need perfection. I need soul. Skin that shivers at truth, eyes that undress egos, hands that build, not break. Come as you are — messy, raw, unfiltered, all your bruises kissed by moonlight. That’s where I’ll meet you. Not in the scroll, but in the soul.