I want to dance, but will these weary limbs hold me?

I want to leap without falling, spin without tripping.

To throw myself into movements, without throwing myself away.

I want to dance, but can my quaking hands break the bars of my cage?

Could I fly with the stars?

Or would I merely jump to touch them and fall short?

I want to dance, yet I won’t try hard enough to let myself.

I’m stuck in a mud of procrastination and lies, lies I tell myself.

I want to dance, so I go to do so but I swivel on my heel instead and walk away.

I won’t push my boundaries set so close that their prongs stick into my sides.

I want to dance, yet I won’t.

Is what I really need to say,

‘Do I want to dance?’