Open

I am still open.
A conduit.
The incantations pour
Through me
And there are
Long nights of
Blood rites
Blue veins
Seeking oxygen,
Spilling secrets,
Craving sutures.
An inlet, too
For these dark tides
And sometimes
The light gets in,
Makes a prism
From the brokenness
And I can see in hues
I forgot exist.

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