You're a thief, plain and simple;
You can't change it by turning over a new leaf,
And the cuteness factor of your dimple
Won't give any relief:
You stole my heart,
Took it in your bloody hands,
And then planned on tearing it apart,
But that's not where This Love lands;
Not with a whimper, but a bang;
I'm not giving up one little thang
And my voice still rumbles with that Virginia twang,
And what I'm gonna learn ya
Is enough for a whole gang:
You're mine.

December 17, 2008, for Jan.
Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.


  1. Ricky...it sucks that you're having to go through this- and I feel you, man. I do.

    Have you ever considering putting this cycle of poems together as a linear narrative and then publishing them? If you'd like, I'd be happy to help you with it. It might help the cause, and even if it doesn't, it would show a little "Look at what you're missing" to your lass.

    Just a thought. Or two.

    Damn fine work, though.

  2. Well, Larry, this situation has been like a seesaw, up one day, and down the next. Right now, it seems that I am still in the race, maybe even first place. I am putting together a collection of all that I have written for her, with the exception of those that are included in Songs from the Road; in fact, I have been working on it tonight.

    Thanks for the praise.