This is how I want mine, that is how you like yours.
Chilli flakes, lemon, tangy tangy sauce for me. Mild and juicy, plain chicken on rice for you.
I like mine sweet, savoury, bursting with flavour. You like yours safe. Warm. Known. Clean.
I like mine messy, tumbled, piled on a plate. You like yours tidy. Neat. Michelin star.
I like red, you like plain. Red on me, black on you.
You like me, I like you, but the mess gets in between.
I like books, you like films, so I can read while you watch things. Hand on thigh, foot on foot, head on shoulder, reading nook.
I like storms. Rushy wind. Messy hair. Chaos and crayons, bric a brac on a tottering tower. You like calm. Green. Black. Sharp lines, white blinds, no rug and clean chair. Leather. Perfume. Smart shoes.
I like spice, shake it up, hot hot hot.
You are still. Sailing ship. Planning calendar. Secure. Control.
When life is chaos, I am at its helm. Hair streaming in the wind. Face turned to the sun.
You need control. So you break down.
Hold my hand. Sail through the tempest.
Chaos meets chaos.
Storm meets calm.