Since you've disappeared,  
I feel your name—  
the way people say  
each letter.

I feel the reverberations.  
Four small letters—arranged in a way  
that makes my ears singe  
with loneliness.

One small word and I come undone  
like the pale plastic buttons of  
your white Oxford shirt  
between my fingers  
when we were together  
after long days.

I slip through
the holes and hang  
by threads  
remembering your cinnamon spice skin,
your dark, *** brown eyes and your  
smoke musk scent.

I feel your name and  
I come apart  
at the seams.