The item, unspoken, of which I speak,
Is lovely, dreadful, common, unique.
What could be so contradictory?
The item, unspoken, of which I speak.
This item, unspoken, which I speak of now,
Is quite difficult to explain, and how!
The words to describe it are cowering low
As I try to massage them from beneath my eyebrow.
Why is it unspoken? You wonder today.
Unspoken it remains, just as I say.
Neither meaning nor form can I flay
from the husk of this word, oh nay.
This item vexes, perplexes, and taunts
I try to compell, but it jeers at my wants.
I would now reveal it, yet its form is still thoughts.
It ducks left and right, it will not be caught!
When speaking about the item unspoken,
With all my affection, I leave you this token:
Speak not of the item, unspoken–instead,
Just write down the words floating inside your head!
