Don't tell the birthday boy congratulations on living another year. 

Do not tell him you put a lot of thought and effot into the gift wrapping. You know he will tear it anyways.

Don't tell the birthday boy that you think of him often. 

And don't you even think about telling him he enters your mind just as you enter unconciousness. 

Don't let him know that he made you cry on your birthday. 

Keep your mouth shut. Keep your fingers still. Don't let him see they tremble. 

Don't tell the birthday boy you miss him. 

Don't tell the birthday boy your regret your words. 

Don't tell the birthday boy that you thought of only him today. 

Do not let him know he still has a place in your heart. Zip up your jacket. Button up your sweater. It's too chilly to celebrate. 

Don't tell the birthday boy you miss his stories. 

Don't tell him you want his jokes to knock on your door. Don't let them in. The banging may splinter your ribcgae but at least you have an excuse to hold your breath. 

Don't tell him you still remember the good times. 

Don't let him see how desperately you clench them. 

Don't show him the fingerprints you've left on his record. Or the teardrops that puckered the surfaces of unsent messages. 

Don't tell him that for the first time you didn't know what to do with the pieces. 

Don't tell him you were looking for his callused hands to put them back together. 

Don't let him know he's special. Because he already knows and he doesn't care. 

Don't give him the hand that molded itself to fit his. He is not falling. 

Don't tell the birthday boy you wish him well. 

Don't tell him to make the wish count. Make him hold his breath. 

Don't tell the birthday boy you'd wish for a rewind button because you know he never would.