For my Valentine

Love is the perfect poem:
Analyse it and it's marred.
Speak of it? You must begin
And be betrayed by where you start.
All emotion, being, self -
Chuckled tears in the wellspring heart;
To go beyond "I love you",
Beyond living it, is hard.
This sort-of sonnet seeks success
Starting from certainty of failure -
An apology not designed to impress,
Not adding more where more is less,
Just saying "I love you", yes:
I love you.