Tullamore Dew

I sank back & slowly let the thick, heavy steam roll over my balmy skin as I swallowed another barbed memory — I closed my eyes.  Shards of glass flooded my throat as I tried once again to drown you for good.  Warm, peppered honey – liquid gold.    Flashbacks invade, instigating a silent war behind my eyelids.                 Dark rooms & locked doors & secrets whispered against once innocent ears while backed against the wall; burning flesh; rose red lipstick stained collars; torn stockings.

Down the hatch! — another gulp of burning forgetfulness as I let my shoulders fall prey to the warmth surrounding me.   My eyes open to ghost-like vapors cascading across clouded water as a flash of his devilish smile – painted in lies so old even he could no longer remember – caused me to jump & chase my breath.

Traces of you still plague my mind, but I’m out of whiskey.


Father’s Day.

Father’s Day didn’t come this year.           Or perhaps it came & went.

Though I don’t think I’d recognize it anyway.   Or maybe I’m just thinking of you.   I find myself asking, “When was the last time? When did I last know him?”    The bitter truth is maybe I never did.   Suddenly it feels like you’re just another face in the crowd.

Maybe you remembered the man you didn’t have to be all those years ago.

I remember piggy back rides and turning you into a horse.     Take your daughter to work day – ones that resulted in me taking a fair portion of your tips.    Werewolf masks and ‘Child’s Play’.     Banging pots at midnight and hairy chicken cutlets.    Be My Valentine.  New York City and The Nutcracker at Christmas.    Getting my belly button pierced and easing the pain with sunburn.      Road trips to Connecticut.          Summer vacations in Wildwood Crest.     Late afternoon lunch dates.

I learned long ago to mask my hurt in rage because it’s easier than dealing with the truth…

These are the memories I’m left with…

forgotten; left behind; ignored.

Maybe one day you’ll remember me. . .


Thoughts & Memories                                                                                                                                               that I’m not longer clinging to – hoping you’ll come back.

Splintered & Disregarded                                                                                                                                         so casually discarded; you left the pieces lying around.

But I’ve set these memories ablaze                                             &                                                                      soon it will be as though these moments                                                                                                                    never even existed.

© Gina Jenkins

Different Paths.

He lay awake once again, as he had many nights before – thinking about h e r.

The pounding & thrashing of the rain onto the old, thin plated window pane mocking him.

He tried to imagine what his life could’ve been, if he ever actually told her that the sun shines brighter whenever she’s around & how even time unexplainably slows down.

She was everything – but she had no idea.

The air full of words left unsaid, in fear of what might’ve been. But they had chosen different paths, traveled down different roads.

3:45a.m. – she wakes up again, hopelessly searching the mirror for answers to questions she’d never had the courage to ask.

Rain crashing against the hollow house laughing in her face.

She thought of him as lightning flooded the room with memories as she stared at the reflection before her.

She thought of how he desperately hung on her every word, no matter how trivial. How his smile always had a way of reassuring her it would all be okay & how he hadn’t the slightest idea.

The air full of words left unsaid, in fear of what might’ve been.  But they had chosen different paths, traveled down different roads.

© Gina Jenkins


Faded Memories.

I felt you
[ f a d i n g ]
& like an emerald leaf on the cusp of autumn; slowly at first,

then all at once.

I stood there frozen, watching you casually drift away–like a branch flowing downstream; I was inevitably powerless to stop.
Feverishly I try to hold onto the last few  p i e c e s left of us that you don’t seem to want anymore.

While I struggle to remember what being wrapped inside you felt like; your chocolate eyes melting into mine, you consistently dismiss me.

& I was left –ruined– by the one person who I thought was never supposed to give up on me; masked by the hope you’d one day come back for me.

© Gina Jenkins