Fifty Per Cent

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 have don't have the memories
I have enough memories
I've watched enough mornings
I've cried 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