My vision blurs as thoughts recur about when we used to play cards under the oak tree,
During the long summer days when we filled my room with a marijuana haze.
The many different moons that lit our many nights where we sat on a curb, staring at the sky.
I forget a lot now, probably on account that I\'m high all the time
But isn\'t that the point? Without it I never would have written about these times,
The days spent alone, wandering the house like a ghost without purpose.
Waltzing silently across dusty floors.
The only heaven I glimpse is the sunset through the bars of my blinds, color lapping at dark walls.
I can only think if the times where we were bright, as I walk down the empty halls.
I\'ve all but forgotten you.