Deepthoughts - Blog Posts

"The most precious possession that ever comes to a man in this world is a woman's heart."

I am not sure how long I will love you,

But I know that it will last,

Until the moment the stars burn out,

For my feelings are pure as they are true,

Buried deep within my heart,

As impossible as it may seem,

You're the one who has fixed all of my broken pieces...

©️randik86

About Me: -

HI ! I'm Astrum, 41 Aries, and I go by he/him pronouns. I like all things art/culture: music, film, painting, poetry, fashion, literature, so feel free to ask about anything of the sorts, I'd love the chat!! I listen to all kinds of music mostly jazz, folk, classic rock, or anything pre-2010s so feel free to ask about anything like that i LOVE the beatless, like seriously it's insane! I enjoy writing letters, notes, poems, as I believe everything is poetry if it comes from the soul I love hiking/camping, long drives, Parties, and other outdoor activities as well I enjoy reading fantasy and romantic fantasy books. My favorite book that I've read recently was The Cruel Prince by Holly Black. My favorite trope is enemies to lovers (I like the idea of someone seeing all my flaws first and still managing to fall in love with me. I also just love the banter between the enemies). My favorite colors are wight, wine red, blue, black, olive, I like all types of wines. I want friends, you are my lifeline, and I do have a lot of things that I enjoy.

"The heart that truly loves never forgets."

Astrum

"The heart remembers what the mind tries to forget, especially in the quiet hours."

Astrum

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 am learning to love the sound of my feet walking away from things not meant for me.”

— Unknown

I don’t want a home.

I want a heartbeat

that beats louder when it feels me near.

By yours Astrum

It was kind of a dick move to create animals that require air, then confine them to the freaking ocean

“I write slowly… with depth…”

Whispers Between Pages By Astrum

I have always trusted the quiet of untold stories, the soft ache that lingers between what is written and what is merely felt.

I do not chase endings — I unfold them, slowly, like paper worn thin by longing and hands that know the weight of memory.

Somewhere between ink and skin, I found my truest voice — not to speak louder, but to listen deeper to the words that choose to find me first.

mood

"i’d undress your mind first"

by Astrum.

i wouldn’t rush you.

i’d start slow —

trace the curve of your thoughts

long before i ever touched your skin.

i’d ask how you sleep when it rains,

what keeps you awake when it’s silent,

and where you ache when no one’s looking.

i’d want to know

the shape of your sigh,

the weight of your dreams,

the taste of your laugh

in the dark.

when you’d trust me enough,

i’d kiss your scars with my words,

bite your insecurities softly

between conversations,

and hold your secrets

like they were silk on my tongue.

and maybe,

if your eyes begged for it,

i’d undress you slow too.

but i promise —

your mind would be bare

long before your body ever was.

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.

i raise it, hold it in front of me. show you, through someone else, a peek inside myself. a keen eye can see through it—but cutting words glance off at an angle. it's not me, just a reflection. and isn't that the point? vulnerability, by proxy. i trust you not to hurt me as far as i can reach into the mirror.

🌸 You're not in the track, when you think you clinging with me will make you something more than my acquaintances. Where I don't grow, where I don't flourish, where there is lack of personality and intellect, I leave. I won't hurt you with the truth, I won't shut the door over you without giving you a peek about me and forgetting that you like me in the first place. I love, I pay back, but I'll pursue gestures that will show you instances of where we're not togather and your self respect still remains. I may avoid you, normalize you from something special, and you won't realize where the bondings are going loose. Eventually it will hurt you less, because I'll make you forget me.🌸

🍁It would be hard for me~

It would be hard for me act indifferent while I'm suspicious and sometimes right, all those pair of eyes in this open world are swallowing me whole while I do nothing but walk alone, beside the stand. It would be hard to breathe while I'm having that ache inside my chest out of anxiety when I listen about others and imagine, how horrible the judgment might be while talking behind someones back.

It would be hard to wake up early in the morning while only 24hrs seem like a huge unknown ocean of "what ifs" and "would happen". It would be hard for me to be lonely with this "bitter" version of myself. It would be hard, nearly impossible for me for not to care what others opine, for I used to grow up amidst compliments and I've learned "how people see us define ourselves ". It would be hard to walk with blacked out visions and endless palpitition almost through my ribs.

It would be hard to see myself being hard on this submissive entity, recklessly pushing herself off the cliff while maintaining that obsessive urge to be "perfect". I choose to be ordinary, I fear I might be inherently "weird" and I'll, along with all the people will judge myself for that.🍁

💮Never have I tried to rewatch my past to narrate myself. I know it's a mess, it's random, but I can feel it something beautiful. Everything fall in place just like a story. Sometimes I welcome the circumstances which fall in place. I watch, suffer, break, but never intend to mess with the sequence. The mishappenings seems beautiful in a chaotic way, and perfectly put. I think, 'Won't be a nice storyline to narrate?'💮

|Picture Credit : Pinterest|

Sometimes, it's a potential to heal when we see some people, at the end of the day, has taken out some time for themselves, after being there for everyone and everything, they repair, rearrange and heal some old scratches. They aren't usually the rotten hearts among us. It's an inspiration itself to see the self care, the intensity of the love for themselves and the way they keep coming back to home to themselves even after flowing through earthly lives. Isn't it an ambition enough of not to lose yourself even when you're camouflaging amidst the crowds?

Picture credit : pinterest

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