In Love Again

I don't believe I'll fall in love again.
I don't need my skin to flush at the sight of him,
to absently lick my lips when he says "hello"
on the phone.
Never again
will my thoughts stray to him,
intruding on my concentration.
I won't look for the one
who can make all that's broken and wrong
seem whole and brilliant and right.
There will not be another head
on the pillow beside me,
another toothbrush in the holder.
For the rest of my life I will remain single,
and life will be simple—
just the way I want it to be,
without another "him" to complicate things.
I don't believe I'll fall in love.
It's far too precarious, too flimsy and fragile—
and far too easy
to fall out of love
again.