The Line Between Here and There

I haven't felt that happy in too long. It was as if for that moment, it was alright not to exists. We didn't exist because others could not see us.
All it was and all it needed to be was me... and you.
It was not planned.
We were not rushing. In fact, I cannot remember the last time I walked so carelessly, not realizing I lacked a stated purpose.
Your arm was around my waist and mine, over your shoulder, caressed your collarbone and the skin behind your ear.
We talked about victory, imagination and it's cruel opposite (reality), love, and those miserable moments we both adore; when our lips beg to touch but we think we know better.
This isn't wrong.
It's merely unexplored.

There was this complicated analogy you and I came up with.
It wasn't perfect, but it was, without a doubt, fantastic.
The dirt meant this.
The pavement: that and those.
And the small patch of grass meant that "in-between" that kept the two at peace with each other, and that kpt us together through both.

I told you to jump and you screamed "no!" to make me smile.
And I was happy because I knew you knew it was exactly what I wanted.
I sat on the dirt and explained things to you, because sometimes I pretend to be wise and reasonable.
And I was happy because you listened and nodded even when what you wanted to do was kiss me.
I threatened to touch the pavement but before I did you held my hand.
And I was happy because I wanted to kiss you back.

It was getting darker outside progressively.
And I was happy because under the moonlight things shine differently, and the glow stays.