As infrequent as a night alone.
As subtle as a touch on the shoulder.
Love stands above all else as the goal of our lives.
To Love...
I know... that's cheese.
Yet, that seems like a consequential goal of life too.
Doesn't it?
We spend our lives in pursuit of love, and what do we come up with?
A boat load of cheese.
Not that cheese is a particularly bad thing,
Sure sometimes its smelly, or doesn't taste very pleasant,
Its funny how those cheeses are usually the ones most sought after,
Still, everyone has their preference as to which cheese was the best.
The most well-made, the tastiest.
No two cheeses are ever the same.
As is with love.
Some people wish to gather as much cheese as they can, becoming collectors,
Others are allergic,
some are even Turophobic.

But in the end...
What really matters?
The cheesiness of a pizza?
Or the mere fact that you ate it?