Missing Fastener

Pulled it from the hanger, my hand

went straight to the space.

A tiny void, second from the top.

Just a few frayed threads, an empty circle

where the plastic used to be.

My favorite denim, now it hangs wrong.

Puckered. Lopsided.

It's such a small thing, really.

But it's not whole. It's not right.

Like a promise, almost kept.

I can't wear it, not like this.

Not with that bare, stitched-out scar.

It’s a flaw you keep feeling for,

even when you know it's gone.