I cannot cry anymore.

When I stub my toe
Or twist my ankle
Or even when the dog in a movie dies.

Sure...I bubble a little and my heart aches too.

But tears for a boy, disguised as man?

There is no blood in my heart left to wring out.
The glassy pools he used to dive into are dry.
And old, cracked concrete sits and bleaches in the sun.

The hurt is there.
The hurt runs deep.
The hurt is all the reminds me it was real.

But I cannot cry anymore.