Queen

[Leanne]

Prick of lips, smearing dye, sticks needles
through my spindled eye; in the darkness
I spin, a splendid gold thing. I spin.
In the day we sit happy. He and I,
opposite cups of tepid tea
under ever after weather,
clinking only as we stir.

I miss it. Hands and knees rough
from praying to the floors, calluses alive.
The indignity of hate feels less now,
less than the indignity of love.

Our chats are mild - hopesdreamswishes -
and my voice well hides the sounds of mice;
crawling, clawing, beneath the paradox
of one glass shoe.

Wow, what a difference!

The italics are a great touch, and you've really drawn out the "be careful what you wish for"-ness

My one suggestion at this time is, instead of "I miss it", would you consider "How I miss hands and knees rough..."?

Brilliantly edited, addy.