Now She's Gone, by Guy Fletcher

Now she's gone he comes to view
her grave, carrying tulips,
speaking to her in tender tones
with eyes moist as morning dew.
This sickening newly found infatuation
a far cry from when she breathed
when he assaulted her with scornful words,
there was none of this adoration.

But she never existed at all,
the invention of a guilty mind
as he kisses her framed photograph
hanging as if gallows on the wall.
He pictures a modern Helen of Troy
yet this is an easy, maudlin love
and now she's gone he's convinced
the clear sorrow in her eyes...was joy.