Annie is a young, queer poet living in Cardiff who began writing poetry as a cathartic process to work her way through grief and trauma. And pretty much any emotion. She has previously been published in Sideways Poetry Journal and Green Ink Poetry.

Nothing more than a dream

In another world, 
In my dream, 
We are in our kitchen and 
I am pouring you a glass.
Montepulciano.
You drank that on our first date,
You laughed at me when
I could not pronounce it. 
We laugh about it again,
In my dream. 
Nothing bad happened between us, 
Not in this dream.
In this one you are still pressing 
Your lips to my neck
And I am still telling you,
That you are my definition 
Of Heaven. 

Pendulum

The swing is all I’ve known, 
Feeling the pure rush of 
Sweet adrenaline as I am pushed 
Into the orgasm of the sky
Trying to hold onto that fragile 
Point right at the peak for as long
As I can. And then the plummet 
Every time hitting me as if I wasn’t 
Expecting it, further and faster 
Hurtling towards the ground. It 
Won’t stop. My body slamming into
The ground is a pain I know 
Better than any, and yet I know I will 
Continue to subject myself to the 
Torment, if it means I have only half 
A chance of reaching the climax again.