The Way We Speak

Says he: 

Good God, I hate seeing you eat yourself this way!

Says I: 

That's amusing, because I already hate eating myself. I have nothing but the fat, and it's all going to places that nobody wants.

Says he:  

I would like every part of you. I dream of them just as they are.

Says I:

Not the parts you can't wear very well. Sooner or later if there are portions hanging off of you that don't appeal to you, you will sever them.

 Says he:

 Not if they were portions of you. I would wear them proudly and love them even more for their imperfections, I would not cut anything. Just for you to be mine.

 Says I:

Yes, but I can never be anything but what I am now, which is that of wallowing and eating myself alive, and purging myself back up when it suits me that I am too full. Do you really wish to wear such bad-tasting things? These are secondary traits of the worst kind.

Says he:

You can not hide from me the softness of your perfection, no matter what terrible things become you. But is it not true that the ugliness of one person's thoughts is the beauty of another's? Must not somebody take them and love them whilst they are finalized in their own state? I can truthfully deduce that I will take you for better or for worse. 

Says I:

I've disconnected at the portion about finalization. You fail to realize that nothing in a person's thoughts can be finalized. What once is beautiful within will become ugly, what once was ugly may or may not become beautiful. Either way it will change. It depends on what amount of threat it poses for the person observing the thought. You do not want to adorn anything of mine if you're looking for finalization. 

Says he:

Oh, but you, you, you are my very finalization! You are the very ideal of it! If I could just wear you and hold you against what I am, I would be the perfect soul. I will take anything you will give me whether it be torn or built of pristine wholeness. It will never seem imperfect to me.

Says I:

I cannot discipline you, nor can I say you are correct. You are a disconnected spirit who does not understand the value of self possession and self-companionship. You do not enjoy your lonely days, or your grief filled nights. There are such times as these when sadness should indeed be appreciated, as it makes a body real. You want to wear all these parts of me, when you can't stand the colors of your own skin, of your own pallor.

Says he:

I don't wish to be myself, because I know that I have found perfection within you. 

Says I:

But you cannot become me, and I will never act as an extension of yourself. You don't value the possibility of being friendly and observing me from afar, the way I would need you to. I cannot give myself to anyone who doesn't become themselves first. It would thus be wrongly permissible for that person to fully take me over, and it would instill the loss of their own identity. Furthermore, If I give you the things about me that I don't want, I would not desire to see them again, can you say you would never show them if you loved them so much?

Says he:

You do not make any good points. Rather, I believe you're submitting a betrayal to me. You choose not to give me what I deserve after craving and taking care of you for so long a time. What is life to me now?

Says I:

Life should be to you as it is to me. It should be a stand-still in which to observe your thoughts and emotions. It should not be the procurement of anyone else, you can not wear it well. Now come, let me be gentle, let me handle you because you are so precious to me.

Says he:

I am not interested in being a solitary creature, and it seems that this is what you wish to make of me by not giving me your covering. I have begged you through the years and brought out your beauty. How am I supposed to go tonight?

Says I:

I am not a home, I am not decorative, I'm not so obtainable. I can not be designed by anything or anyone but who and what I am already. You do not wish to take me within this current form, so why on earth would you want to wear the worst of what I've been? Why do you wish to keep it so close? Is it because you have altering intentions? I suddenly sense you've been waiting for something other than what I am and that of which I give, although you've stated that I'm perfection. Prove to me that this is incorrect by any means necessary.

Says he:

Why must you have proof of what I say to you? Am I not telling you that I need you with everything that I feel? Is it not enough that I'm perfectly convinced that we're meant to be? I am willing to disregard all affections for you and all bonds we may have, to prove that specific measure.

Says I:

And must I remind you that you do not know everything of which goes on between true lovers, if you're proposing such threats? It used to be that you wanted me free and happy, now it is that you don't understand how to give me time to make a decision though, regardless, there is no room for one 

Says he:

I do not have time left to give you now that you're shoving away at my hope. My one last hope that was so blissful, now I am without it.

Says I:

You can not be without it as long as I am here and as I am your friend unconditionally. Is this not worth maintaining all of a sudden? You only wish to deceive me and get what you want, which I do not understand. Why does it matter what I am to you as long as I love you?

Says he:

What good is your love if it's not portrayed in a way that I can see it? If I could but see it I would believe you.

Says I:

But there is not a chance anymore? Will you not try to see and hold the love I give you while it lasts, while it is still somewhat whole after your messing around with it? If it can not be done, then say so now and I will walk away. I will not shine my terrible instances on you any longer, or trust you with things that I have told no one. It was but a dream to both of us. If you cannot accept me as I am, then tell me now so that I can take away from you all that you deserve to lose.

 Says he:

It will be done then. I cannot have this any other way. It is you the way I want you to be, the way I want to wear you, or it is nothing.

 Says I: 

Then promise to always remind me if we pass again that we can not be friends, so that in turn I can always remind you that we will never be lovers.

 Says he:

Very well, wretched vice.  Good luck, good bye. We will not come to pass again.