One Tulip. Two Tulips. Your two lips.
Your lips speak words of brilliance.
In awe of the treacherous thoughts racing to understanding.
Understanding why you sit beneath the blanket of stars.
A tulip in your palms. Breaking it piece by piece. Less pieces, a faster answer.
“He loves me. He loves me not”
You no longer have to break apart your tulips, you already know the answer.