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