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?’