Sufficing

To blandly just repeat that I love you
Seems insufficient; yet what can I say
Besides? That phrase condenses me into
My basic element. Yet there's a way
In which it cannot reach into my heart
And in three little words pluck out the soul
Of how I feel. Of course, it is a start,
But without more it does not quite feel whole.
I love you, yes, but more than that I feel
For love is far too easy to declare.
It slips out quickly, and so lacks the steel
That hardens how I feel, and how I care
Into the strength that stiffens up my spine:
My joy is joy simply because you're mine.