Half-Life

My face is in two halves smashed together in flawed symmetry, each half squirming to get supremacy, Oh Two-Faced One! Split so, halved down the middle, which side are you on? Do I see my better half in the mirror? Or in the shadowy silhouette, devoid of details, that follows me around, like a faithful dog, wagging its tail. Which half-truth should I believe when spoken from a forked tongue protruding half-way out, from twin lips clenched, to hide the split slivers of tongue clef in two, by honesty to skulduggery? The beat of the heart I hear and feel as one, emanates from two chambers left and right beating in harmony but not together simultaneously. One flows into the other, and upper and lower halves beat one after the other two by two, two by two a tango flamingo. But each half, though never still, feels the ache of faking a one-beat heart, halfheartedly, to listeners, with one half beating memories, the other longing legacies. Is half a glass, half full or empty in quenching thirst? Is half-and-half ever a whole? Is the half-light, a fade or surge to the coming? It's half past the hour: I'm late, I'm late! Or too early for the shower? Is a half-life, the life of those poor folk on Bikini Atoll must endure waiting for their hell on earth to end, something we all share, living our own half-lives, halfheartedly!