I love thee in the morning, shredded and sprinkled in the frying pan as my eggs tango with you... you are Mexican blend, of course. Never mind that the Tango is from Argentina... close enough.
I love thee sweetened with apricots and sugar, eaten by the sweetest morsel with coffee. That's a triple vente Americano. The coffee... not the cheese.
I love thee in the raw, unpasturized, "kay-so" form, spread smoothly on a corn tortlla and rolled up in the heat of the afternoon.
I love thee in the little Baby Bell snack form, well formed and dressed in your slick waxy red suit.
I love you on a platter... with fruit... and wine... even at weddings that I wished I didn't have to attend.
I love thee from a cow. I love thee from a goat. I love thee in a car. I love thee in a boat.
Oh cheese... our love is so delicious.
It is a forbiden love... one that comes from my *ahem* condition. That cruel intolerance I have for your brothers, milk and ice cream. But you... you treat me better. You are the one I pledge my heart to... or at least my stomach to. We never know what the future holds. All I know is that while you are good to me, I will continue to love you, too.
We are still talking about cheese, right?