My bold Meritage
Was aged in French oak;
One sip of its splendour,
Love does it evoke.
Melancholy love,
Swells as I grow tipsy,
Remembering the touch
Of my Garbage Bag Gypsy.
She clawed through my chest,
Squeezed her fist round my heart,
She held full the power
To rend it apart.
She’d wound me and scar me
Curse my name to above;
But my Garbage Bag Gypsy
Still gifted her love.