Candid Corvid Productions

We have come far by putting one foot in front of the other, and strategizing against the odds.

I must allow myself to wait on answers,
For I’m not ready to address these tests

Which loom by soon-revealed scans and
An answer from one, delayed by surgery.

I dreamed of birds on my shoulders and dogs by my side.

I can no longer give any time to any man who interferes with the flow of love, directly and/or indirectly, and who does not advocate for it for mutual beneficience as I do.

There are some things that I simply will no longer put up with.

Following them (at least loosely) lets us know where we stand when upon a path of insecurites.

What I could want – what I could hope for, aspire to, and cultivate – is rendered moot when waitting to hear another’s decision.

I will keep mine, thank you.

Just give me some room to breathe!

In-depth comprehension tends to exacerbate.

If I am alone, I must stay focused.

Bundled up tight so that I remain productive.

I must be strong, valiant, and cobble together assurances.

When I allow myself any room to feel the need for loving support, I simply fall apart.

For I am very hurt.

Too injured.

Yet, I am the ons in charge of navigating myself through perilous seas to find my own safe harbors.

What will become of me in these processes?

Sometimes I cry.

Mostly, I want to scream.

I am not alone, and yet I am.

It surprises me to realize how much my heart suffers in sense of isolation.

How, when I review, my life encounters in love have experienced too many sad endings.

None of them gentle – although to an outside viewer, most would be seen as hardly a blip on the screen.

And each one has been important.

It’s as if I have endured great tragedies.

Perhaps it is because I understand the hidden ramifications behind the scenes.

Why would I wish to try again when I have only encountered broken hearts barely surviving and kept sleeping?

Men seem to get angry and resentful when it comes to needed healing.

The one for me is likely locked away and heavily guatded, if he is anything like – yet wiser than me.

(Title play with words)

One aspect of being a “shifter” is that such a one is adaptable – often more so than the average person.

Due to this, we are not bound by the roles we play daily in the same way as others when we are simgle.

Therefore, finding a partner who is compatible is difficult because we tend to dwell in unique venues.

(Title play with words)

Modulating and limiting distractions to ensure my clear signal comes through.

There was a boy I cared for that one day my best friend whom I loved dearly turned against me when we were very young children.

It used to hurt so badly when she and he and whatever posse they were hanging with for the day would go after and target me.

They would hunt me down frequently and repeatedly, for there was only so far that I could escape for seclusion within an enclosed, large playground, and there was little else more interesting in their minds for them to do.

With cackling glee, they would trespass and throw their “sticks and stones” at me – but if they reached for me, I would dodge and run to outpace them.

One day, years later in my late teens, I visited where the boy’s family had meved in order to check up on him.

You know, to see how life had treated him because back then, he had considered himself Apex.

His mother who used to disdain me was happy to see me and welcomed me in to wait for him.

She had been friends with my mother in the past and told me and life had not been easy for her while she was married, so she had divorced her husband and taken over the farm.

She shared with me that the once boy/now young man had been lonely for some time, unable to fit in well and be accepted by high school society.

I thought that perhaps then he would feel comfortable with me again, since we could relate to similar experiences and surely by now he had matured further and “evolved” to reclaim his essentiality as I had been striving to do.

But to my internal panic’s dismay, when he was alone with me, he outright propositioned me lewdly and aggressively.

I backed him down gracefully and got the heck out of there – upset and distraught by the whole encounter.

It was disturbing to me that a boy once sweet before “turning” could have been driven so harshly by societal rejection further down the path of extremes.

Somewhere deep inside me, I had always hoped that he would somehow find his way back to innocence.