The Lonely Girl

Underneath the floorboards and underneath the stairs
there lives a lonely girl.
She has been living underneath floorboards and flagstones
dirt roads and polished marble
for a very long time indeed.

She is not sure how long.

Sometimes she gets to come above
if she is careful and she listens
for the hard tread of your work shoes on the stairs
and the sudden waltzing step as you avoid the closing door
(you did not look where you were going,
she realises,
and there is a shuddering thrill in knowing something so intimate and mundane)
until she hears the soft pad of your bare feet on the bathroom floor
that trails into your bedroom and disappears.

If she waits
and she is very sure you are asleep
then she can come up.

She doesn't do the same things every time.
Sometimes she will search for treasures you will not miss
an old pencil (it is surely too short for you now, oversharpened)
a single sock (you have so many that you'll never notice, she is certain)
a piece of dried pasta curled into a spiral (so clever! She wonders how you make them)
and steal back underneath the floorboards with it.

Sometimes she will open every drawer and cupboard
so that you will know she was there
and come and talk to her and be her better friend.
But she loses her nerve
closes them again
and runs back underneath
cursing her foolishness.

Sometimes
as a treat
she will very gently peel back the bedsheets from your face
and breathe in when you breathe out.
She wonders if you would notice if she stroked your hair or kissed you whisper-soft.
She knows you would notice if she pulled your eyelashes
or bit your bottom lip until it bled.

She wishes there was a way you could know her the way she knows you.

Underneath your floorboards and underneath your stairs
there lives a lonely girl
who loves you best
and promises
that she will never ever go away.