Some unspoken thing

It started out as something rather small,
Some distant thing we didn’t care to mention,
Till it came slowly seeping through the walls,
And squirmed across the floor to my attention.

It always was just some unspoken thing,
Compact faux pa, a tiny indiscretion,
And yet to mention it would always cause a sting,
So it became a punishable transgression,

Though it was neither secret, sham or scandal,
And we all felt it was there and feel it still,
To speak of it would make it much too tangible,
And by now had festered much too long to kill. 

It lingered like a lie in a confessional 
And sat heavy like the haze on tarmac roads
The words we owed were long since compensable 
And from dawn till dusk it shook and screeched and groaned

In mornings silver mist I saw it writhing 
And in your face I watched it twist like flame
On evening smoke it came to me now smiling
But on your tongue I never heard its name

Behind the picket fences of the doll house, 
And other such facades and pale clichés, 
The thing began creating our own jailhouse, 
And from the lies constructed quite a maze

When you had gone, I hoped it had left with you,
But your leaving only made it whoop and prance,
Since I never got to tell you that I hate you,
And it knew that now I’d never get the chance. 

Since then I am more weary and much older, 
And regret the things I never dared to mention
So I let the thing sit happy on my shoulder
And pull upon my ear for more attention