I have a buckle but no shoes. I wrap around and hug you from your middle Unlike you ex, I hold things tight and together

Only the winner may take me home, the loser might say I'm half empty. What am I?

You may draw me, open me, hide in my folds. I am who you think to call at the end of a show. I offer you darkness, I shield you from prying eyes, I move aside for the sun to glow.

The ancients used it to battle at a distance. It is how the sophisticated catch the olive in their martini. Append mint, and you may taste it first thing in the morning and last thing at night.

A break in the silence or a brittle line torn, A call for attention, or a temper worn.