Eight years together and the only true rumor I can spread about the man is that he has a Manchego grin. That’s all I remember, honest. His appearance beyond that, globulous, a geometric blur. Rectangular adam’s apple, often bobbing, triangular eyebrows, often arched, and a square nose, often turned upwards, but all of these are shapes without substance. My ex’s smile, it is a moon wrapped in brown paper, no, a half-moon, as it neither waxed nor waned throughout the eight years we spent together.
Masculinity has a much longer shelf life, you see, and the sharp smell of his mouth was alluring to me in my younger days. His confidence was cheesy. Easy, the way a man ages gracefully, knowing that time will only increase his value. Yes, that’s my ex for you, pure machismo, and that one sure had a Manchego grin.
D’Verse Poets Pub: Prosery Valentine
Björn is host tonight, sharing the impactful poem Valentine by Scottish Poet Carol Ann Duffy, and asking us to incorporate her line, It is a moon wrapped in brown paper into 144 words of prose (or less).
Artwork: ‘Cheese Man’ by Alejandro Iturralde Arquiola
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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