Flutiebear: Rambling My Way Through Thedas

I’ve become a collector of kindling. Things 
that easily burn—doll hair, love letters, 
the death certificate that was folded 
and unfolded a hundred times. As I travel 
around the world, asking shopkeepers 
and tour guides if they’ve seen you, 
I wish your name was flammable too. 
That it could burst out of my mouth 
and not come back. That it could 
turn itself into unrecognizable ash. 
That I could smear that gritty powder 
across my skin and wear a coat of it.

How can I translate this into something 
you can understand? The only language 
we share now is light. 

- from After Your Funeral I Set Out to Find You in Different Time Zones by Jennifer Faylo