#bow drill

You don't leave not really You linger like smoke in the curtains like a song that won't end even after the radio's fucking smashed

It's me I learn the shape of love just well enough to bend it wrong

I pick at kindness like a goddamn scab wondering when it'll bleed I test every promise like it's a lie in disguise pulling threads until the whole thing unravels in my shaking hands

You say you care and I hear a countdown You say forever and I start measuring exits

I turn soft moments into interrogations quiet nights into storms with no warnings your patience into something I can prove will run out

Because it always does doesn't it?

So I sharpen myself on your affection become something harder, colder easier to leave than to understand

And when you finally go exhausted carrying what's left of your heart I nod like I fucking knew it

brief introduction i’ve made to show the bow drill friction fire method. a couple of modern conveniences, but otherwise true to historical practice.

A group of Boy Scouts learn to make a “bow drill” fire. Their reward for success? Hot delicious s’mores.