What are we? Are we?

Sleeping in sheets covered in our sweat. One same idea coming through our heads. One same feeling making our breath stop. One same fear that this might tear us apart. Body, mind, chems, breath, everything would join us, but our fear of death. Death of all the things we had already reached, and could be screwed up if we didn’t make it clear. Call it DTR, call it clear things up, call it confess something we couldn’t even stop. Being a friend with benefits is more of what I could ask, based on the fact that you couldn’t be more hot, confident, shining, dreamer, fighting for what he wants, and being such a good fucking person that you're what anyone would want. 
Sorry if I don’t feel jealous when you tell me about your ex, that don’t matter cause you’re here laying in my bed. Looking at me, kissing my neck, making me feel there’s nowhere you’d rather be instead. 
But don’t be stupid girl, love might sound very cool, but you’re just a pretty girl he likes hooking up to. You have too much history for things to work out, things are too complicated for you two to go out. But destiny is tricky, always getting you back together, in those exact moments you both would need each other. Need each other like friends, partners, lovers, filling that empty space sometimes completed by others. What if that’s just all you both are gonna have, you feel confident with each other, for how long is that gonna last? Maybe this is it, we won’t take further steps, we could be winning so much but also losing our heads.