You know what?
You are like cheese, you stink the longer you are stored
You show of sides I’ve never known before
Sides I would find disagreeable, unlikable
Things irksome such as OCD, mood swings, and appetite
Yet because you are like cheese,
I only become happier the more I know of these peculiarities
Because, doesn’t that mean that I get to know more about the one I love?
For just like cheese, you can only get better the longer I spend time with you
And I can only learn to love your OCD, mood swings, and appetite