How can I recall the past? when I can’t even remember your face, I can’t even remember your voice. All I've got is your jewellery box and your writing in chalk, probably not worth a lot. I save the box for the moments of loss that feel like I’m scraping nails down a wall with no foothold. Within the lining I can, if I concentrate, recall your scent. Sometimes I open up your old lip-balm and wear it sparingly. Loose as it may be, it’s as though you’re reality and touching me. Emersed in these moments, I forget, you’ll always be someone I never knew.