Three Poems – Alex Levantis

Aromantic Garden

What do I do with an empty heart?
Do I endeavor in my role,
or do I succumb to loneliness?
There is no luscious garden
full of flowers
springing forth
their petals.
There is no gardener
to tend to my garden.

How
can I feel the roses shrivel up
and die like the others?
How
am I fed water
like the others?
How
can I
stay alive
without my gardener?

If there’s no need for a gardener,
does Mother Earth wish
to take care of me?
Do the gods present me
the forbidden fruit?
Am I just the Fool
on his journey?

What do I do with this empty heart?
Am I throwing away
potential futures
of a prosperous life?

No,
I don’t even know
what a prosperous life is.
Nonetheless,
a gardener isn’t needed
to tend to my
decaying body.

Mother Earth,
the gods;
present me
the forbidden fruit,
Please

I Thought I Was Crazy

I cannot fathom the idea of age and maturity. I thought I’d remain as my old, withering self lounging in bed all day. I thought my development would be a gradual shift like the clouds moving across the sky. It has become a flexible chaos like a thunderstorm where my eyes cannot behold the sight of the future.

One night I made a mistake. Now I can’t remember the day I laughed and played as a child whose friends were dolls and nonexistent.

I thought I was crazy.

Who was I? Who am I? Am I just a fantasy living in someone else’s head? Does distinguishing fiction from reality truly mean anything? Am I a character in a play or a human with free will?

I thought I was crazy.

Now people are saying I am only experiencing the truth of this world, but how do I maneuver through this nightmare? They tell me this is common; they tell me I’ll be okay. It still hurts like a knife twisting into my stomach then cutting me open for the people to see my organs on display. Maybe I’m just another statistic.

I thought I was crazy.

I had no idea my mind would delete images. Forgotten scenes of a torn manuscript get uncovered randomly. My heart pours itself into a chalice with overflowing water. These moments called life do not connect back to me. I am a fracture of a human being who wanders the world through a screen.

I know I’m not crazy; I’m just normal.

Distant Memory

The child’s fingers grace the hem of her hoodie.
Pink sweatshirt and black converse;
torn jeans and a brown nest called hair.
Her chocolate eyes stare at me like I’ve
caught her stealing cookies from the cabinet.
She shakes her head and runs away. My legs chase
her, but the distance grows farther and farther. My heart
thumps faster than the air leaving my deflated lungs.

Alex Levantis (she/they) is a creative writer who is currently taking classes at Dutchess Community College. They are studying liberal arts and do writing commissions on the side. She is working on several novels and a poetry collection.