Purple

Her life was lived in blue. Her eyes pulled you in; suddenly you were lost at sea. She painted with the same brush, unwashed, dipped in dark hues and light tints to create a splotchy sky--this is how she felt most of the time. Vibrant lights above the bar made her skin look pale and sickly late into the night. She'd watch her delphiniums lean low under the weight of winter's snow.
His life was lived in red. Skin warm to the touch; he looked you in the eyes and your cheeks went flush. He spoke the language of your love so you'd allow him the rite of passage to your rapidly beating heart. Even when a party was over, he'd let the fire burn bright late into the night. He'd pull up in a cocky crimson corvette. It took a lot to get him riled him up, but when he was his anger was hot.
When they met their world went purple. Sometimes soft, gentle moments; sometimes powerful perse passion. Their strongly opposing condition completed each other. He became her intense flame, while she was his light late into the night.