Roses In The Ivory Tower

Michael Strite
Aug 25, 2017 · 5 min read

She ascends the dusty brown hill, rising to the challenge that is the slope

The apex of the hill lies beneath her feet, the sun bakes me

Motionless, I rest, a moment of respite as the land stretches beyond me

My destination lies miles away, my heart remains at the bottom of the hill

My eyes remain fixed on the lovely creature that walks before me

She must like hills, closer to the heavens, where I presume she is from

I may own the tower and I may have bought the roses, but she is not mine

She is angelic and beautiful like the softest dreams, as she is often reminded

She will never be mine, yet my heart is hers

In her tender loving arms, the ivory tower is once more adorned with roses

In one hand is the tower I built, the symbol of willpower and dedication

A bed at the top of the tower yearns for the love and lust of boyish fantasy

In my other hand, gemstone so beautiful it pains me that I can’t forget it

She is that gem, beautiful from her curves to the very center of her spirit

I stumbled upon this gem, and everyday I ask how I am so lucky

Soon the bed atop the tower will once more host the intersect of two lovers

13 year old me would probably dream of such a life

The shiny tower and the beautiful babe, living the dream

I built the tower and I stumbled upon the gem, I am at peace

I open my eyes and find that my love has abandoned me

I look around in panic and find that my gemstone is lost

Dawning upon me that the gemstone was never mine,

I get the eerie feeling it is gone forever, and I am sad

I sit upon the dusty brown hill and reflect

The memories of her in my arms are so vivid

She was real…now she is not.

The dirty Saturn Ion at the bottom of the hill is no Ferrari

The precious woman who disappeared is no angel

The sad man on top of the hill is no Prince Charming

I trudge down the hill in defeat and I am reminded of something.

My heart remained at the bottom of the hill,

and My all too human mind followed her body up the hill.

The Saturn Ion fits the decor of the lonely hill, dusty.

My silly pursuit of lovemaking in the private backseat,

the caring act of someone who wants to cuddle and hold her,

and even happier to fulfill every last one of her desires.

Apathetic of his own , simply happy to see her smile.

The once romantic vision of young dumb lovers enjoying each other,

sours and spoils into the fantasy of a deranged creep

The perception of my desires is so tragically shaped,

by someone else’s willingness to join me.

One day it’s summer love with no consequences,

the next day it’s an appetite for love and lust,

that leaves me sick to my own stomach.

I was sad at the top of the hill, and angry when I made it down

I can remember her beautiful smile when she saw me at the top,

Alas, as I sink to the bottom of the hill, memories is all that’s left of her

There are no more roses…in the ivory tower.

Why is the tower ivory you may ask,

well I may have built the tower, but the grand outer coating is not mine.

The life I live is one of privilege, orchestrated by a father who,

sees a lot of himself in me, and saved the money to pay for college.

Must be nice, I can hear you saying, and the ivory tower stands proudly.

Nobody cares if I built the tower after all, plank by plank, nail by nail,

Half of them don’t even the see tower, the other half see the ivory coating.

I gaze upon my structure with pride, I can’t wait to make it taller, one day.

I am whisked away into the land of self confidence, known to some as ego.

Some days I feel like Khalid, along for the ride of highs and lows

Some days I feel like Siddartha, carefully constructing inner peace

Some days I feel like Gatsby, that beloved man who gazes out the window,

and is unaware that his weakness is loving people too much,

In his case, one woman, in my case, far too many.

I can’t help being a lover, I chose that life and I crafted that philosophy,

so I end up loving people a little too much, and they always burn the bridges.

They stand on the other side of the bridge with anger in their eyes,

as they drop the torch and engulf the bridge in fire,

They blame me for lighting the torch, sometimes for wanting forgiveness.

The friends I had exited my life swiftly, and the ones I keep are unhappy.

They burn bridges, they drift from you, and they still remain blessings to me.

Sometimes I am passionately extroverted, living vicariously through

smiles of the wonderful people around me, always seeking to entertain.

Sometimes I retreat to my sanctuary of inner peace, blissful isolation.

The dream of mine fades and I wake to feel the ground rumble.

The ivory tower is falling, it crumbles like everything I’ve ever built.

I run to the top of the hill and greet the rubble of my fallen tower.

Ah yes, the joy of living, watching some mysterious force,

steal the beautiful things around you, reminding you they are undeserved.

Rather than solemnly sit in my rubble and mourn,

both the loss of my gem, and the tower that once was,

I happily get to work with reconstruction, building my tower once more,

as I work passionately I realize what will always remain true of me.

My soul is at peace, by the strength of my mind, and purity of my heart.

The tangible things of my world may crumble, yet my spirit remains happy.

I remain optimistic, I remain a foolish lover, I maintain who I am,

a not so handsome guy that sees the best in everyone he meets,

and always finds new and interesting ways to disappoint you.

So I’ll happily spend my days bringing a smile to your face,

Saving the painful memories of her smile and my long lost friends,

for those late nights, when all I can think of is,

there are no more roses in the ivory tower…

)

Michael Strite

Written by

I like to talk and I like to write, enough said

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