400? 400. 400!

I smell the smoke in the air as you lean in to kiss me lightly on the forehead.
We're in my room, the door is closed and safely locked.

Sometimes it feels like it's Us VS. Them.
They smoke their fags, gossiping about coworkers, filling the nonexistent silences with laughter.
I don't fit in want to fit in. Nonsmoker, unemployed, childish humor.
I isolate myself for a reason.
I like to wallow in my self pity and curse god for throwing curveballs at me.

But you. You. YOU.
You opened my eyes.

So, I sneak you passed the Smoker's Lounge, in to my room, close and safely lock the door.
You see my tears, you kiss them away.
You look me in the eyes, and you see how twisted I am -- but you accept it.

I lay next to you, our eyes locked, your fingers interlaced with mine, and in this moment I finally know the meaning of BLISS.

I live for this moment.