Phoebe They Call Her

An interesting specimen
Pink but not slimy,
Toes with no hair, 
Eyes without yellow.

A small one as far as I can tell.
The big ones are loud
And never playful.

Phoebe they call her.
Phoebe. 
How peculiar to assign a word to a friend.
How can one word describe everything?

I set up shop here because I enjoy the bunnies;
Little grey balls that don’t make me feel so lonely.
During the day, I seep into the floorboards,
Liquified for hours 
Pressed against foundation. 

It is not my preferred state of matter,  
But I can never be seen.
I have heard terrible stories,
Of what happens when the humans 
Crouch down at night. 

I like the bunnies but, 
The reason I really like her bed,
Is because she has a nightlight.
You see,
I am afraid of the dark.
Almost as much as I am afraid
Of Phoebe and her disgusting toes.