Missing Closure

This blue shirt,

my go-to for a certain kind of brave,

pulled it from the hanger,

ready for the screen,

the forced smile.

And there it was.

A perfect circle of absence,

where the second button used to be.

Just two small threads,

like forgotten roots,

clinging to the fabric,

a memory of function.

No time to fix it.

Just a gap,

right over my heart,

or where my heart should be.

A small, visible break

in the polished front.