X: Why won’t you let me go?

A: Because it pleases me.

X: Let me go.

A: It is a simple thing.

X: It hurts me.

A: Then why do you do it?

X: Because I am cruel.

A: Most beautiful things are.

X: I am beautiful, but not fatally.

A: Who said anything about mortality?

X: Even beautiful things die.

A: I find you beautiful and, as such, I can overlook your cruelty.

X: You have no reason to feel that way about me.

A: I have my own reasons.

X: I could make you hate me.

A: The words you say are, at time, belied by your actions.

X: Take this.

A: What is it?

X: I wrote you a letter.

A: To the wrong address.

X: If this would only fucking work.

A: Such bitterness.

X: If you would just read it.

A: It is a simple thing.

X: It hurts me.

A: Then why do you do it?

X: Because you are cruel.

A: Most beautiful things are.

X: You are beautiful.  Fatally so.

A: Mortality again?

X: You will die alone.

A: Most things die alone.

X: You have no hope.

A: I am not afraid.

X: You have no fear.

A: I have no reason to fear.

X: You have no love.

A: I love the whole world.

X: Your words are meaningless without actions behind them.

A: I know the theory is that actions speak louder than words, but at time I feel that words speak where actions can only be interpreted.

X: I could make you hate me.

A: A lie.

X: The truth.

A: As ugly as the truth can be.

X: Would you prefer a beautiful lie?

A: Yes.

X: Roses and poetry and just enough rain to make the grass glisten?

A: No.

X: Heroic deaths, remorseful villains and true love conquering all?

A: No.

X: The smell of spring, the sun setting, the storm that washes the earth clean?

A: It hurts me.

X: Then why do you do it?

A: Because it pleases me.

X: Nothing pleases you.

A: Beauty pleases me.

X: Only if you can destroy it.

A: Only if I may gaze upon it.

X: You have no eyes to see.

A: Only if I may hear its melody.

X: You have no ears to hear.

A: Only if I can touch its tenderness.

X: You have no hands to feel.

A: Only if I can breathe deep its scent.

X: You have no nose to smell.

A: Only if I can taste your lips.

X: Kiss me.

A: It is a simple thing.

X: It hurts me.

A: Then why do you do it?

X: Because we are cruel.

A: Most beautiful things are.

X: There is no beauty here, only death.

A: Death is meaningless.

X: Words are meaningless.

A: Actions are meaningless.

X: This is meaningless.

A: This has as much meaning as we choose to give it.

X: I give it no meaning.

A: You do not have the choice.

X: I always have the choice.

A: You do not find beauty here.

X: I do not find beauty here.

A: Without beauty there is death.

X: Death is the absence of beauty.

A: That is what you believe.

X: You have no reason to feel that way about me.

A: I have my own reasons.

X: I wrote you a letter.

A: I know.

X: If this would just fucking work.

A: Such bitterness.

X: The beautiful truth.

A: The truth is never beautiful.

X: Take this.

A: What is it?

X: All of myself.

A: In truth?

X: In beauty.

A: I know that in theory actions speak.

X: You have no reason to be afraid.

A: I have my own reasons.

X: What will you do.

A: Write you a letter.

X: You do not know my address.

A: It is a simple thing.

X: I could make you hate me.

A: It hurts me.

X: Then why do you do it?

A: Because it pleases me.

X: Death pleases you.

A: A lie.

X: There is no other way.

A: There is always another way.

X: I do not have the choice.

A: The beauty is in making the choice, not in having it.

X: Death is not having the choice.

A: There is freedom from the grave.

X: No one is thus free.

A: Fear is what binds them.

X: You have no fear.

A: There is no reason to be afraid.

X: The whole world is reason to be afraid.

A: I love the whole world.

X: Roses and poetry and just enough rain to make the grass glisten?

A: No.

X: Heroic deaths, remorseful villains and true love conquering all?

A: No.

X: The smell of spring, the sun setting, the storm that washes the earth clean?

A: It hurts me.

X: Then why do you do it?

A: It pleases me.

X: A lie.

A: A beautiful lie.

X: There is death in the lie.

A: There is no beauty in death.

X: Death is the only truth.

A: The truth is never beautiful.

X: I love you.

A: Beautifully?

X: Truthfully.

A: It is a simple thing.

X: I am going to my lesson to play my songs.

A: You play your songs beautifully.

X: Why won’t you let me go?