And so, my darling
(who isn't my darling)
come, show me,
what will you bring me today?
What joys, what gifts,
what fleeting happiness
for all of which, of course, you will pay?
Come, play me that song
(that isn't 'our' song) :
kiss me, as you love me;
-yes, I'll play along;
hold my hand,
guide my steps,
as I smile up at you
and pretend to forget
the one to whom I say
'I love you too'.

Come, let's look and see
what this newborn day may hold;
I'll stride alongside next to you;
let me act as the bold
returner of your spirit;
never mind, that I'll never quite feel it;

Come, bring me those flowers,
tell me you love me on the hour,
a flood of smiles returned,
adoration not openly spurned,
never questioning why
I cannot meet the gaze
of those kindly fluidish eyes;

Come, stroke me, show your care,
til I notice who is there;
come, write me your love notes
as my true love once wrote;
come, let me use you
as the ointment in the wound,
plastered over by affection,
sewn up by attention.

Come, and I will join the ride;
for tomorrow I may awake and decide
that the smile from outwardly in
shows every sign it may begin
to come from inwards out, instead.
And, as we away to bed,
I wonder, could I, should I,
might I let go, and try
when morning comes again
to nurture love, not as that same
bitterly swallowed little pill,
but just for you, who lays there still?

Tara McH

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-availability-of-mr-right-now/