I dreamed I was a
wastepaperbasket

crippled in the corner of your
mind, kissed only with dust—
alone, as always.

hungrily hording the scraps
you tossed me, crumpled with
emotion into dying flowers.

(the world whirled while I dangled,
strung erratically from its silver axis)

I dreamed you were the
glass cup, slightly chipped

I lifted you to my lips and the
world swirled into focus
through your singing clarity

your crystal lip was cool against
my face, dark wine flowing, shocking
me with your sweetness

So-rough-I-just-picked-it-up-off-the-ground.

Thanks to Pennyangel for the Windspark idea, even if I mangled the format a bit.
Go check out her stuff.