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We spend our whole life hoping
that when life gives you lemons
you can make lemonade from them
you spend your whole life learning
how to mix the sugar in
just the way you like
you spend year after year
making up recipes
hoping
praying
that other people will like it
But when you get older
all that learning
and training
and chiseling
to learn how to make
the worlds perfect lemonade
life hands you
an avocado
O-
I was anemic and you were O-. Life was draining from my eyes and you were my vital oasis. I needed you. You were right for me, right?

You were the universal donor to alleviate my sadness, and I accepted you without question. I let your blood consume my own. Because your blood was simultaneously filling me with oxygen, without you I couldn’t breathe. I needed you. You were right for me, right?


But for every drop of blood you contributed to my body, a new tear drop fell. Every drop of blood whispered a new insecurity. You filled me with your own self-doubt serving to emphasize my own. But not once did I wince at the pinch of the needle, or cringe at the sight of the IV. I needed you. You were right for me, right?

But so often times we fall for O- when we are AB+, because they feel right, because they seem perfect. And we fall because without those 6 quarts of blood we may cease to exist. We forget that our heart can beat alone without someone else’s name pumping through our veins. O- blood has common side-effects of insecurity and sadness that overpower the feeling of limited livelihood.

Wait for your AB+. It’s worth it. I promise.

~m.k.
My perception of you
is a reflection of me
of all I once knew
and all that I see

Your reception of me
is a reflection of you
of all that you see
and all you once knew

Nothing we see
Is entirely true
If both you and me
Set our mirrors askew

Eye to eye
Heart to Heart
We realize we
Are all a part

Heart to heart
Eye to eye
We realize love
Will never die

See into
each other's minds
With all our mirrors
now aligned

Through each other
We can see
We reflect forever
to infinity
 Apr 2014 Griselda De Anda
Zoë
Sometimes I feel like I could be by myself forever
But I remember I would miss a few people

Sometimes I listen to the same 5 songs one day
But I might hate them all the next

Sometimes I act like I care
But I might not

Sometimes I can feel reality sink in to me like I'm a sponge
But at least I know the truth

Sometimes I think I don't actually love something
But in the way back of my mind I secretly know I do

Sometimes I remember sad things and cry
But I know it's not gonna help me with anything

Sometimes I do
But other times I don't

Not always, Not never,
Just sometimes
 Apr 2014 Griselda De Anda
Taylor
and i want you to look me in the eyes, read every line, and see exactly what you've done to me.
 Apr 2014 Griselda De Anda
Legion
When you see her cry
     you get a rag,
a gentle delicate cloth.
                                        Lovingly grasp her hand
                                               and dab its tip;
                                       dry each tear as they come.
                                                           ­                               And ask each drop
                                                            ­                                   why it'd leave
                                                           ­                               such beautiful eyes.

  If she wishes
to be in the sky,
  tell her to go.
                              Take the sun ransom,
                              and replace its shining
                                    with her own.
                                                            ­          So you can see her every morning
                                                         ­                          and wish for her
                                                                ­                  return each night.

When you see her scars
  both visible and non-
    touch each gently.
                                             And remind her
                                       that each and every hurt
                                            she has survived,
                                                       ­                                 has only made her
                                                                ­                   that much more unique;
                                                         ­                              that much stronger.

  Show her that she
  is a special person
and is worthy of love.
                                     That she deserves the love
                                            she fears to give...
                                            show her so that
                                                            ­                     one day after you're gone
                                                            ­                      she can find the strength
                                                                ­                    to go on without you.

    Tell her that while
she might not be a goddess
far above worldly desires,
                                          that she is amazing,
                                         for just being herself
                                    for being that beautiful girl
                                                            ­                   who thinks herself damaged
                                                         ­                         when in truth she's just
                                                            ­                    a different kind of beautiful.

   And finally, love her.
  Like a boy loves a girl
Till she finally remembers
                                            that that's what she is:
                                          not a scar, not a goddess,
                                             not a star. But a girl.
                                                           ­                         That deserves to be loved.
A
Dictionary
is a
poets
best
friend
with the
exception
of her
pencil
or
pen
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