what a pattern to follow

We'll be patchwork like a faded quilt,
tattered, worn, but quaint and warm;
you'll cleave to me, you say-
but cleave me into lengths all gilt
whose fabric wears and patches tear
and stitches only fray.

You murmur wistful of desirous dreams:
we'd start afresh a single flesh,
but my precept disapproves
of bodies lashed by jagged seams,
awry limbs sewn skin and bone,
all tentacles and hooves.