Chopsticks

I celebrated the day you were born by wrapping a present of chopsticks I had purchased but would never give you. I wrapped the box as though I might -- with colorful tissue and a silver ribbon that catches the light in a similar manner as do your eyes. But realized that were I to offer them up you might ram one through my heart without even meaning to. You would say thank you and be gracious but would not hold me citing a thousand reasons why you shouldn't. And you would be right. For we would hurt all over. So instead I write this for you, hoping you will visit but knowing you won't. So I forget your birthday -- though I don't.