Incompats, compats perhaps

You have a pleasant face; 
I prefer plain, gorgeous. 

You have a forward way. 
I like that plenty, but 
prefer a bit behind. 
Which on the other hand, 
fits! So fine. I see, 
I mean. No hands 
here and there, 
hey mama.

Your character, I judge 
is rather. I prefer 
quite. 

What do you think of me,
though? 

That, 
if you like 
and don't mind me saying
could put the bow on the cake. 
Just right! You choose, 
I cut. Or rather slice. Or just 
fork in? Or spoon. 

Yes, let's just
as you'd rather!
I sense deserts 
in the wind at night. 
Eat what you have, 
and drink it too. Quite 
a near trick if you ken,
do both.

For and from all we know:

We are kind, I suspect 
not kin. Which is blest
as a festival of waves  
on coasts. Yet at just

This moment it is still
just possible, we may not 
begin at all. Shall we go? While 

We've had the chance? Or forbear,
forewarned and four-armed as
we are combined. Maybe take 

this next pass, for our cares.
Maybe flirt all the way towards 
death as we flit. We'd dare all
our lives, for such fit to share 

which we'd quite rather split
all our difference upon
to roast and spit!