You don't own the moon.
You don't own the moon and I don't own the stars in the sky or the reflection of the city lights on the lake. We don't own midnight drives or Walmart or the pond by the silos.
You don't own stupidity and I don't own pain, and I kept telling you that kisses aren't games, people aren't toys. So when did I start playing?
11:11 wishes and 5 years time don't belong to either of us but you own a piece of the last two years of my life, and I've had the same coloring book picture of Lando hanging on my wall since the only date we've ever been on.
I don't own the sunset and we don't own the XX or that spot in Alpine and everyone makes out in the back seat, but we are different just because we're us. And even though you've been missing for quite a while, I keep forgetting you ever left, or that you ever will again.
And I don't own crazy, but I'm taking this crazy chance on you and trading my summer and the next two years for a couple of weeks and a promise of later. We've waited two years already, I bet we can wait another two.
And if, in 5 years time, we are sitting together on a hill, watching the city at night, I know I'll feel like everything belongs to us.
