I don't iron his shirts

I don't sew on his buttons

I don't know all the jokes he tells

Or the songs he hums



Though I may hold him

All through the night

He may not be here

When the morning comes



I don't pick out his ties

Or expect his tomorrows

But I feel when he's in my arms

He's where he wants to be



We have no memories

Bittersweet with time

And I doubt if he'll spend

New Year's Eve with me



I don't share his name

I don't wear his ring

There's no piece of paper

Saying that 'He's Mine'.



But he says "He loves me"

And I believe it's true

Doesn't that make someone

Belong to you?



So I don't share his name

So I don't wear his ring

So there's no piece of paper

Saying that he's mine



So we don't have the memories

I have enough memories

I've washed enough mornings

I've dryed enough evenings

I've had enough birthdays

To know what I want



Life is anyone's guess

It's a constant surprise

Though you don't plan to fall in love

When you fall, you fall



I'd rather have fifty percent of him

Or any percent of him

Than all of anybody else at all

I'd rather have fifty percent

Of him

Or any percent of him

Than all of anybody else

At all