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Jillian Jones Sep 2019
Let’s make out in an art gallery.

Maybe the more I fall into you
and the more you fall into me,

We will become a work of art
and fade into the background.
No one would notice the two lovers
for all they see is art.

Let’s make out in an art gallery and become
our own renaissance painting.

-let's be the art j.j
Jillian Jones Sep 2019
The leaky pipes that keeps me up at night
The constant snore
The distant cough
And the leaky pipe that keeps me up at night
The wind whispers
The vicious growl
And the leaky pipes that keeps me up at night.

-tossing and turning j.j.

The Moon, she laughs
Even she knows
The **** pipes will never be fixed.

-untitled j.j
Jillian Jones Sep 2019
I sit here, alone,
in my own head thinking of someone,
of anyone,
just to pretend to not be

-only alone j.j
Jillian Jones Sep 2019
Just because you do not find the beauty
in words and poems,
in drawings and paintings,
in colors,
in the waves of the grass
or the bark of a tree,
does not mean
that I should not too.

I should not be out-casted
for finding beauty in things that
you do not.
My opinions do not change your view,
Why should yours change mine?

maybe, for once,
take the leap, take the chance
in finding beauty in something other than
what you think is normal.
Not until you take that chance
can you tell me that my views are wrong.

-the ballet of a dreamer j.j
Jillian Jones Sep 2019
Nothing confuses me more
than the survival of the butterfly.
They fly around with their beautiful colors,
so easy for a predator to see.
There delicate wings,
one rip and they are grounded.
They have no teeth, no claws
to defend themselves.

So tell me, how did they make it?
How have they survived this long
being so, vulnerable?

I think ,through butterflies, God is showing us
that it is okay to be delicate.
You can survive being vulnerable.
We do not have to always be
hard and strong
to make it in the world.
We can be soft.
We can be human.

-to be a like butterfly j.j
Jillian Jones Sep 2019
In the eyes of a dreamer,
a beauty will behold.

-untitled j.j
Jillian Jones Nov 2020
the rain it howls so loud
the thunder it crashes.
caught in this constant storm with no way out
I am so afraid.

But then there You are.
Like a beacon in the darkness.
You welcome me in with open arms and hold me tight.

The storm is still there
But now I have a rain coat.

im thinking about publishing this in my schools campus journal. let me know what you think.

— The End —