Longer Life

I'm sick.
I'm obsessed with you.
I'm over it.
I'm not going to call you ever again.
I'm on the phone with you again tonight.
I swore I'd never make-out with you in your backseat again.
Here we are your hand up my thigh in your backseat again.
Let's promise to never see each other again.
And tomorrow we'll be on the corner of Greene and Harden at 4 a.m. with our hands behind our backs and nothing to say. But you'll catch my eye at just the right moment, and I'll give you five more minutes.


Would it scare you if I told you that I live for those last five minutes?