Astrum - Hello Poetry

El decir es falso, el cumplido es falso. Una vez que el final haya traído será verdad, por incluso el cumplido se hace cenizas y el decir vuela como nunca estuviese.

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Sep 12, 2025

Sep 12, 2025 at 10:39 PM UTC

El Decir Y El Cumplir

El decir es falso, el cumplido es falso. Una vez que el final haya traído será verdad, por incluso el cumplido se hace cenizas y el decir vuela como nunca estuviese.

1

Why do you wish for me? I do not want you like how you want me, I will not push you away but do not cling my root to your heart for it will not reach yours. Sorry if my words hurt you but is the way to not hurt you further, I explain to you all and do not leave more to question.

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Jun 4, 2025

Jun 4, 2025 at 12:51 AM UTC

Why is love like it is?

Why do you wish for me? I do not want you like how you want me, I will not push you away but do not cling my root to your heart for it will not reach yours. Sorry if my words hurt you but is the way to not hurt you further, I explain to you all and do not leave more to question.

1

I stare into the ocean, my life reflected back, a mirror that reveals the path more clearly. I carry my thread of existence, woven solely in the flame that holds my warmth. I whisper to the waves— bring me life, bring me a thread of it.

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Apr 24, 2025

Apr 24, 2025 at 1:29 AM UTC

Just a thread, A truth.

I stare into the ocean, my life reflected back, a mirror that reveals the path more clearly. I carry my thread of existence, woven solely in the flame that holds my warmth. I whisper to the waves— bring me life, bring me a thread of it.

3

We glance at each other—a fleeting second, a fragment of time that stretches like minutes. The weight presses down, sharp and sudden, as minds and hearts collide in that single fraction. But for one, it means nothing—just a glance, no more. And who is to blame? Different minds, different souls, forever apart. Silence lingers, heavy and unbroken, Its obscurity deeper than the fleeting glances. Noticed, yet unspoken, like whispers lost to the wind— a fraction of connection, slipping into the emptiness. Yet somehow, it joins the stillness, inseparable. Oh, how I long for a bond, fragile as paper in my hand— just one day to connect, to know, to feel, to belong. But like the paper, the bond will tear without care, Fragility demands effort to endure. Can this aching rift be mended? Or will it remain, forever just a fraction— a silence, a passing glance?

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Apr 10, 2025

Apr 10, 2025 at 2:35 AM UTC

A Glance

We glance at each other—a fleeting second, a fragment of time that stretches like minutes. The weight presses down, sharp and sudden, as minds and hearts collide in that single fraction. But for one, it means nothing—just a glance, no more. And who is to blame? Different minds, different souls, forever apart. Silence lingers, heavy and unbroken, Its obscurity deeper than the fleeting glances. Noticed, yet unspoken, like whispers lost to the wind— a fraction of connection, slipping into the emptiness. Yet somehow, it joins the stillness, inseparable. Oh, how I long for a bond, fragile as paper in my hand— just one day to connect, to know, to feel, to belong. But like the paper, the bond will tear without care, Fragility demands effort to endure. Can this aching rift be mended? Or will it remain, forever just a fraction— a silence, a passing glance?

19

I look into the mirror, a reflection without shine. I look deeper, seeing my own reflection through my eyes. But something is missing, something isn’t there. I feel it, missing in my heart, in my mind. But what is this yearning? Can it be love? Or something else? I’m afraid that no love I can have, no words come from my mouth to express it. Even if my soul punched my throat, no word will come out to speak of it.

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Apr 7, 2025

Apr 7, 2025 at 1:27 AM UTC

The Missing Piece

I look into the mirror, a reflection without shine. I look deeper, seeing my own reflection through my eyes. But something is missing, something isn’t there. I feel it, missing in my heart, in my mind. But what is this yearning? Can it be love? Or something else? I’m afraid that no love I can have, no words come from my mouth to express it. Even if my soul punched my throat, no word will come out to speak of it.

11

I walk with the glow of a stella, unmoved by time’s passing hand. The years fly, yet the days crawl— like the last drop clinging to the highest cloud, waiting to fall. I wish my tears could be time itself, so maybe I’d live a little longer. Maybe I’d stream to empty myself, like a bucket of tears thrown to the ground— brief, swift, a life undone.

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Apr 1, 2025

Apr 1, 2025 at 10:40 PM UTC

Until Time

I walk with the glow of a stella, unmoved by time’s passing hand. The years fly, yet the days crawl— like the last drop clinging to the highest cloud, waiting to fall. I wish my tears could be time itself, so maybe I’d live a little longer. Maybe I’d stream to empty myself, like a bucket of tears thrown to the ground— brief, swift, a life undone.

1

As I sit, breathing in the silence, soft light sneaks through the windows. Feels like peace, just for a second— Until that smile. Not mine, but there, right in the mirror, lingering for too long, almost unnatural, curving in a way my lips never could done. My chest tightens—I laugh, nervously. It's nothing, I tell myself. Just my imagination, right? But as I turn away, something pulls at the back of my mind, whispering—or maybe just a silence too loud, like waiting for a scream that never comes. I glance back— And my reflection, staring hard. It blinks when I don't. Cold hands, shaky breath, I reach for the glass—it doesn't feel right, doesn't feel like glass. "Is that me?" I whisper, leaning closer— And then, just like that, I wake up. Was it a dream? Feels real, though. I sit again, breathing in the silence, light sneaking softly through my windows. Feels like peace.

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Mar 31, 2025

Mar 31, 2025 at 1:16 AM UTC

An Endless Nightmare

As I sit, breathing in the silence, soft light sneaks through the windows. Feels like peace, just for a second— Until that smile. Not mine, but there, right in the mirror, lingering for too long, almost unnatural, curving in a way my lips never could done. My chest tightens—I laugh, nervously. It's nothing, I tell myself. Just my imagination, right? But as I turn away, something pulls at the back of my mind, whispering—or maybe just a silence too loud, like waiting for a scream that never comes. I glance back— And my reflection, staring hard. It blinks when I don't. Cold hands, shaky breath, I reach for the glass—it doesn't feel right, doesn't feel like glass. "Is that me?" I whisper, leaning closer— And then, just like that, I wake up. Was it a dream? Feels real, though. I sit again, breathing in the silence, light sneaking softly through my windows. Feels like peace.

6

Are we not like leaves? We grow, we watch, we change, Aging beside those we cherish, Until, at last, we fall— And new ones take our place.

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Mar 29, 2025

Mar 29, 2025 at 7:02 PM UTC

Falling Leaves

Are we not like leaves? We grow, we watch, we change, Aging beside those we cherish, Until, at last, we fall— And new ones take our place.

5

Our bonds were strong, yet different in their ways, Each path you walked, I followed, lost in haze, Like a fool who loves what can’t be held or won, Chasing what was never meant to come. On a rainy day, I knew what would unfold— Rejection, cold, a truth I couldn't hold, Yet in that sorrow, the tears found their grace, Joining the rain, as it fell on my face. Vox silens, I whisper in the mist, it was just A silent voice, a truth that can’t be kissed. Like the hills of old, with tales untold, My heart lies buried in the damp, the cold.

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Mar 25, 2025

Mar 25, 2025 at 2:34 AM UTC

Silent Voice

Our bonds were strong, yet different in their ways, Each path you walked, I followed, lost in haze, Like a fool who loves what can’t be held or won, Chasing what was never meant to come. On a rainy day, I knew what would unfold— Rejection, cold, a truth I couldn't hold, Yet in that sorrow, the tears found their grace, Joining the rain, as it fell on my face. Vox silens, I whisper in the mist, it was just A silent voice, a truth that can’t be kissed. Like the hills of old, with tales untold, My heart lies buried in the damp, the cold.

12

A pen that’s bled a thousand lines, yet pages crumble, left behind. Each thought I shape, each verse I weave, feels lost before another’s eye can truly see. Write, they say—write and bleed, let the ink meet every need. But what if lines just fall apart? What if they never reach a heart? Doubt is heavy, it presses deep, like restless waves of ink that never cease. Yet still, I carve, though lost in night, a whispered truth, a fleeting light. And maybe no one sees or knows, no echoes where the silence grows— but if one soul should pause and stay, "Then all this weight was worth the fray."

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Mar 21, 2025

Mar 21, 2025 at 1:40 AM UTC

Ink In Doubts

A pen that’s bled a thousand lines, yet pages crumble, left behind. Each thought I shape, each verse I weave, feels lost before another’s eye can truly see. Write, they say—write and bleed, let the ink meet every need. But what if lines just fall apart? What if they never reach a heart? Doubt is heavy, it presses deep, like restless waves of ink that never cease. Yet still, I carve, though lost in night, a whispered truth, a fleeting light. And maybe no one sees or knows, no echoes where the silence grows— but if one soul should pause and stay, "Then all this weight was worth the fray."

16