Reverse Psychology

You are an enigma, only found hidden under leaves. A colour in the rainbow still unseen. Fate has formed your mind into a revolving door, without pressing the buttons, it remains like dead seeds, so I became your gardener to help you blossom - perceiving you will flourish into the rarest rose. Only you can soothe me from your thorns. You are a sleeping volcano, sometimes senseless, irritated by every polish to regain consciousness. When embers ignite within your enraged eyes, fragile flames spiral into bitter bonfires - visible from scorching scars on my soul. I always wonder is this the last time I adorn my armour, as I follow you into your internal inferno, hoping your fulvous frenzies are temporary like the last star. You are a master in your art, but I'm an alchemist with your secret ingredients, so I tug your strings in reverse, but never leave you dangling in a disorderly drunkard manner, because you are a unique, untouched gem. Words are vortex to your heart, so I summon silence to keep you on the edge, but before you fall, I'm there to catch you. You insist it's ebony, when it's ivory, so I tell you to go left, knowing you will go right and when you say you cannot write, I Whisper secrets to the wind, aware they'll carry to you like a typhoon. As you vent, your metaphors manifest the honesty behind the poison in your veins. Suppressed emotions become poetry. When you imply, I do not feel and you are hellbent to hurt, your wrath leaves me hanging like a punch bag, yet I never aim back, knowing calmness heals. I can tell you it's the final spring, or I've laid down my shield and sword, but you are unable to halt the slaughter, until the sour aftertaste becomes pleasant, so I place sugar cubes, slowly on your tongue. I was born to take the stones out of your heart. In this cognitive warfare of intellect and logic, where you push and I pull, there is only one winner, no sinner, as in your quest to prove me wrong, you succeed and that my love is reverse psychology.