Days Spent Alone

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.