I told myself not to follow those eyes. Those eyes that convince you you can walk out of quicksand. Those eyes that cradle the moon as if the stars belong within its smoky orbs; they’ll trap you just as easily as they trapped the sky.
I told myself not to follow those lips. Those lips that curl slightly at the corners, making you believe you’re in on some private joke. Those lips that curve like chirography in love letters never sent. Those lying lips that won’t part when you need them to the most.
I told myself not to follow those feet. Those feet that stomp to the rhythm, ask you to come dance. Those feet that made no sound when they came, made no sound when they left. Those running feet that won’t come back, no matter how hard you tap.
I told myself not to follow those eyes. Not to follow those lips. Those feet.
Oh but I did.