creaking

The creaking sound keeps me here.

While the footsteps are invisible their pressure on those old boards never disappear.

I feel your mind creeping as I hear you trailing above my head as though you were on the hunt wishing me dead.

Hiding in the basement smelling the mold and surrounded by the cobwebs, I feel so cold.

You will dwell above as I crawl beneath as you creak and creak these floor boards.