The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me.

 The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals.
They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat,
And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes
Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.
The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea,
And comes from a country far away as health. 

Sylvia Plath