'Art class with me and you' by Savannah Wells 

I wish I were an architect 

So then I could have designed the school where we first met

It would have high ceilings so we never felt like we were growing tall… 

And every classroom would be an art class 

Maybe then we would have liked school

Do you remember art class?

The empty soup cans full of blunt colour-ing pencils…

One electric sharper at the front of the class

And the rush of having to walk past-

You. 

Squish past all the table chairs 

And brush past your golden brown hair

Pieces of paper and pieces of you 

Architects are artists too-

If the ceilings are high 

Then the windows must be wide

So we could see the outside world 

From inside 

It will be messy 

all rooms will be messy 

Watercolours dried up and mixed up too much

But I’d always volunteer to stay behind to help you wash up

The paintbrushes and water cups 

Acrylic stains on school blazers 

The hairband marked around your hand 

Fens hens pens

We were only just school friends 

One etch-a-sketch

Away from being more

We were hungry as art class was always before 

Edvard munch

I meant school lunch…

My Heart is an art class

A school full of creativity 

Where everyone could pass

My school shoes and sticky glue

How could I forget you?

I don’t have to wish I was an architect 

because I already am

I designed this life and I sketched out the plans 

but

you coloured me in

outside of my lines

But there I was missing the obvious signs

So I threw away my architectural plans

And built the school without design

Upside down

Inside out 

Because isn't that what life is about?

'urge to merge' by Savannah Wells 

the urge to merge is deep within. It buries me I bury him.

to purge this urge with a surge of love 

to love and hold this urge closely- 

the urge to be spoken to softly

And wholly.

Merge with another and feel heard

this urge burdens me-

I wish to be chosen by another 

purge this hunger and desire

Emerge from this sea of loneliness

The baptism.

Submerge oneself in love

and romance

and hatred 

and fear

I'm on the verge of something magnificent 

maybe it's love

or maybe it's me? 

You can't spell merge without me and urge 

without you

oh you

what if we converged?

then we wouldn't know who is that-

when I am you and you are me

I will splurge out

over-consume make more room

To resume-

will you meet me at the verge 

Of my epiphany?

'We regret to inform you' by Savannah Wells 

We regret to inform you 

They say as they inform me...

I have been unsuccessful 

and that 'it's just not meant to be'

not at this time

due to the volume of applications 

by an entire nation of persuasion.

I'm sat in the darkness of my room 

Consumed by inboxes that feed and feed

On indeed.

Searching for the nearest jobs near me

As I read on Reed

The world isn't my Oyster

it's my Oyster card

the one I forgot to top up

when I was escorted out by a security guard

LinkedIn is my enemy

informing me of my rejections 

and contorting my perceptions

showing me my connections

Updates-

I regret to inform me

That I am a jobless

Monday 

Unemployment 

degree

'The Wrath of 10,000 Men' by Savannah Wells 

Why did God give women

the wrath of 10,000 men

but the strength of none?

Why am I so mad at the TV

And my mum?

As I slouch into the couch

rummaging to find the remote

The TV is too loud 

And there's a frog in my 

Throat.

As I sit on the green sofa-

Away from my dreams

10,000 men who are angry 

reside

inside me

begging me to burst 

Open.

Overflowed and broken

But the TV is still frozen

my mother has fallen asleep

And my strength weakens

what else is there left to believe in?

As I step into the dim light of the kitchen.

Now I know why

I came out

Screaming.

'Game of cards' by Savannah Wells 

When we play cards

Even if it's for one game

How do I begin to explain?

That I don't play to win

I play to stay.

Because even if I lose 

You always say 'it's okay'

I'm not good at cards

I'm quite slow

But when we both grabbed the cards

in a hasty touch

I hope you know

I remember the dream you had

Where you lost both of your hands

And how it ruined all your future plans

if i could, I would give up my hands and arms

Even the story written on my palms

So you could still play cards. 

'The Trampoline' by Savannah Wells 

I still wish I had a trampoline

That filled up with leaves 

In Autumn 

And was wet-slippy in Spring

Instead I had a playhouse

That is now a pavement three-by-three

I wish I had a lunchbox ready-made for me

A babybel, half cut grapes

Bottle of water sandwich shapes

Made by my mother

Made with a love like no other

Tin foil and cling foil 

The smell of my mother’s handbag

Apples, raisins, and zip locks 

red spots becoming chicken pox

Homework and paper hats

Unfinished drawings and felt-tip pens

I wish I was small enough

 Again 

To still believe the moon guided me home 

Like a compass.

As I drift away in the back seat 

Waiting for my father to carry me

Into bed asleep

To have my childhood teddy speak to me

In the language I invented when I was three.

And My bedroom walls 

to finally answer my calls

Why have they been so busy?

To view the world from my garden-swing.

and hear the voice of my Nana sing.

To be bathed warm till shrivel skin

as soft as an old receipt.

To feel the sun on my face

and grass on my feet.

To know what it feels like

 to really know 

Nothing 

again.

Only ever asking why and not when

Why can't I have a trampoline?

I ask my mum

When will my childhood dreams come true?

I ask no one.

'Dear, Assembly line' by Savannah Wells 

Dear assembly line

please let me in.

I want to be a part of some-thing

I owe a trench coat

and a pair of headphones.

I have mastered the 'don't-talk-to-me-face'

and I promise not to work 

From home.

because now I am computer

I mean a commuter...

You know 'cappuccino' 'stapler'

Deadline and Trainline

another hard day

another waste of time.

A meal-deal-lunch-wrap

Elevenses flapjack

inhale emails

exhale voicemails.

I have my own desk

no warrants or arrests

I have a pension scheme

(whatever that means)

but my credentials are small

and my experience -

nothing at all.

But I am busy and available

Desperate and frail.

A rat in the race

An adult in haste

A sweaty M&S

A Tesco suitcase 

A Waitrose excuse

For a co-op mistake.

Cancelled

5 o'clock train

Sainsburys eye bags

Everyday is the same.

That's me assembly line!

I am a bag for life.

Now

where do I sign?

Oh you're full-

Maybe

Nector time.

'When I was a guitar' by Savannah Wells 

When I was a guitar

I could be 

tamed by patience

and heard from afar!

In tune with my emotions 

I demanded a complete devotion-

pulled by my strings

And held by my frets

my needs were always met-

by my own 

A-chord

I was a forgotten relic

Of a teenage girls bedroom.

A master of disguise

as a hobby

or a profession.

I was hand-picked

and Joe-strummed

Always in

A-capo-need

Of someone

The tighter I was held

the more I yelled

Hammered on.

And pulled off

Added to the tab

I was always told off.

Told what to do

By the fingers on my neck.

As I leave them scarred

I was admired much more

when I was a guitar

'If the worst thing a woman could be is ugly, then I shall be hideous' by Savannah Wells 

If the worst thing a woman could be is ugly, 

then I shall be hideous, 

perfidious

and 

Verb

I am not noun, or adjective

or something else you have already heard.

I am an action-packed

thriller 

about a girl who 

finished all her dinner.

I have hair under my arms

and on top of my lips, 

skin on my thighs 

and jeans that fit

 My stomach 

that is not tucked in

like a school-shirt 

I wear my belly like a medal 

a prize for a rebel

I shan't be small 

(although I cannot control this)

I'll walk on my tip-toes

If I have to-

I will never feel sad 

as I am reminded every month 

that my body is a portal of life.

A wish to be had 

I am the closest thing to God

and the furthest thing from it.

I once was a fish a bird I am told!

How can I be ugly

when I play this 'girl' role?

'Conversation with myself about myself' by Savannah Wells

Don't water it down

Don't try to make it more palatable 

More chewable

Easier to digest. 

Do you think the ocean 

ever felt guilty for all her depth?

Then why do you feel so ashamed 

for being so complex. 

Truthfully

I know that you are incapable of

'watering it down'

I've seen flowers 

try to grow from your garden

only to

wither and turn brown.

After you have over-

watered them

and let them drown

You are still trying to figure out

how to light a candle

without starting a fire 

How to connect 

without fusing a wire

Truthfully

You are still figuring out 

how to love someone without

letting it overconsume you-

because loving you 

should be as easy 

as putting on a shoe!

Pitch a campfire in your heart

and plant a seed

in your feet

learn to live in the shame

learn how to breathe

'Like the desert ' by Savannah Wells 

I am energy 

made of atoms and patterns

and it just so happens that

my grandad was a mushroom.

I am unique, just like everyone else.

But yet I am one of a kind...

I am made up of 

Contradictions

But yet I make perfect sense

(at least this is what I think).

I am the unused metaphor on the tip of your 

tongue.

I reside within your deepest wound (a paper cut)

I am

An unstoppable force

An Immovable object

I am everything I am supposed to be

And nothing that I am 

Not.

The desert within me 

is the sun I wish to be

The Savannah (me)

I am the sun

in which I orbit 

I am the gravity

that grounds me 

(free)

'I miss Leonard Cohen' by Savannah Wells 

I'm neurotic

Hot-topic 

Philanthropic 

Bed-side table 

I was not created 

I was debated

and liberated!

and fully capable-  

Of many things

I wish not to discuss-

I was not chosen

like a chocolate bar at 

Your favourite shop.

but

I am late for my bus.

Sure, I'm different

 I'm bored

torn into 

Reese's pieces

I can't spell

 I can only guess

try my best

to forget the rest-

I miss you.

I miss you like the trees miss their leaves-

-leaving you behind me.

I miss you like I miss Leonard Cohen 

Throwing me off you did

knocked the wind out of me.

I'm new-o-tic 

misanthropic

empty pocket

If that's what you want me to be.

'Pudding' by Savannah Wells 

Pudding conditioner

in my roots.

Not knowing 

how to tie my shoes.

Riding a bike far too late

and I'm always seeming to finish

in last place.

Not knowing why I put on weight.

Always dreaming of being 'saved'

wearing goggles in case I drown.

I'm trying to find love 

when no one

else is around

Playing football like a son

playing mother like a daughter

and eating like a kid at kitchen dinner.

I'm begging the world to make me thinner

I am a copy.

Always saying sorry

feeling guilty for exisiting 

feeling like something is miss-in

Never taking up too much room.

Eyes heavy in the womb

Remind me

why am i still worrying.

'Who would I be if I stopped trying?' by Savannah Wells 

If I stopped trying, will I still be loved?

if i stopped

what would be left of me?

Maybe the freckle on the left side of my nose

but even that is trying to stay.

Maybe my fingernails 

or my eye crust

they don't try !

My eyes and ears try really hard, so they would have to go.

My feet and hands 

My brain

my heart.

All are trying 

so what would be left of me?

I would like to think my soul, 

but I assume it too is also trying it's best.

I think nothing of me would be left.

I am nothing if I am not trying. 

I would simply be a crumb 

a sesame seed

from the bagel of life.

I am no one. 

"Lemon and lime don't rhyme and neither do we" by Savannah Wells 

I need you like a lime needs a lemon 

tattoo needs ink

and

money a felon 

I need you like a flag needs a pole

food needs a soul

anna

 mole needs its hole.

I need you like clothes need a hanger 

posters need walls 

and ceilings a ladder.

And I I I 

miss you like I miss the freckle I once 

had on my nose

like school children miss snow.

Like plants miss the garden hose.

Like I miss what I once used to know...

And I want you like new house keys

like a fresh summer breeze

like an all-you-can-eat 

I want you like clouds want to be

made into a shape

I want you like a businessman wants to

escape. 

like scissors wants tape.

like skin cells want to regenerate.

I want you like work of art wants to be nuanced

A balloon without a leash 

A lime without a le-mon.