I’m whispered low and guarded tight, until someone tells me out of spite.

Look in a conversation, and I’m always the other person.

With no true shape, it stand in for all, On screens or in factories, large and small. The name sounds like nonsense Also called a thingamabob or doodad It's something you'd fidget

I’m shared in whispers, never loud, kept between a trusted crowd. I’m safe when guarded, but once I’m told, I can spread like wildfire out of control.

I hide in shoes and warm your feet, Lose my twin and life's incomplete.