Did Luther Vandross Write This?

Jackie-O inspired the thoughts below.

There haven’t been many men in my life that I’ve wanted to possess, and I mean that word exactly, possess. There is one in particular, the most recent, that I look back on with fond memories.

The first time I saw him (let’s call him the “bartender”) all those cheesey things that you hear in love songs happened to me… my heart skipped a beat, time stood still, I couldn’t breathe… you know. I watched him from afar. My eyes would be fixated upon him. His hands, I loved how his hands looked as they rested upon the bar. I wanted those hands on me. His small scar, I wanted to know everything about it. I wanted to trace its curves and know its story.

I remember meeting eyes with the bartender for the first time. He looked into me, straight into me. It was startling. I then watched how he looked at others. Did he look straight into them too? When he smiled at them, I’d get angry because I wanted that smile all to myself. I didn’t want anyone else to see what was mine. I could feel my skin getting hotter.

And so I start quoting silly song lyrics because this is how I felt:

Wish I could bend my love to hate [him]
Wish I could be his creator
That he could hold my heart so tightly
And still not see me here…

Ownership… I wanted to own him.

Then one day, sitting at the bar with a guy friend, this guy friend asks me, “hey, do you know that guy?” Pointing at the bartender.

“No why?” I replied.

“I don’t know. He just looks like he wants to kill me is all.”

“Huh, weird.”

And then, he noticed me. He introduced himself and said he hadn’t seen me around for a while.

Surprised, I say, “I imagine you meet a lot of people… I’m surprised you remember me.”

He grins and says nothing. This is where our, how shall I say it, interaction perhaps, begins. I go a few more times, and he starts buying me all my drinks. Then one evening, he got off early and came and sat with me. Could I speak? Of course not. Here was this guy that I’ve held in my head, I’ve watched, fantasized about… had physical reactions when in sight… and he was sitting next to me now, talking with my friends… AND looking at me.

We then walked to a bar nearby, and I linked my arm with his. I remember the warmth of his forearm as if my arm were touching it now. And we kissed. And it was one of those moments you want to be held in forever. And it’s bitter sweet because you know the kiss is going to be over sometime. And maybe there won’t ever be one again, so you keep kissing… and oh god, it hurts to kiss him. And why hasn’t he been kissing me forever. And why have his lips touched anyone else’s but mine… because they are mine. I want to own them too. But these things end… these kisses. These end.

Later that night, he came over. He was in my room. His clothes were on my floor. He slept beside me. I could look over and see him there beside me. His warm body, beside me, in my bed. In my bed. And in the morning when we woke, he wrapped his arms and legs around me. I couldn’t look at him. I could only look at his fingers intertwined with my own. The image of his fingers is still vividly etched upon my heart. The second he left my bed I wanted him back there. Would he ever be back there? Would his warm body and slow breathing ever lie beside me again?

I went back to the bar days later. And his clothes were never found on my floor again. And I’d drink his free drinks at his bar, a meager replacement. And I hated any girl that ever had more than a kiss. And I hated everyone at the bar that got to hear his voice. And I couldn’t have him. I could only have a taste of what I was missing. My mouth was left so unsatisfied. I was left wanting so much more. And he’d walk by me at the bar and sometimes he’d look at me and sometimes he wouldn’t… and I noticed every detail. I could hardly breath.

I've grown tired of love
You are the trouble with me
I watch you walk right by
I smile, you do not notice me
Treat me recklessly
All you do is toss me pennies out
But the silence in me is screaming
Won't you come and get me

It’s funny now that time has passed, and I’ll think of him on occasion and the feeling isn’t the same. But I know that feeling can exist. That intense longing for someone. Such a suffocating longing. And where that feeling for him went, who knows. It’s gone now. And I’m happy and I’m sad… and I can only hope that one day I will find someone to hold me in his kiss forever.