An inbox full of missed connections,
Phone calls filled with concern.
My brother once found a feather
That reminded him of me.
One side neat and beautiful,
The other frayed and torn.
It hangs from the rear view mirror
As a reminder of now and then.
I grow older and wiser,
My edges sharp where I have frayed,
But my corners are rounded and soft.
I flip like a coin of emotion,
Two faces spinning round.
I call myself Harvey Dent.
I look at a ghost with each glimpse in a mirror,
Haunted by what could have been.
The light in my life has gone out,
But there is hope yet in the dark.
I leave the door open.
I wait for the coin to land.