Why not dance between fingers tormented by struggle?
Why not bounce, forcing yourself into positions that awake your spirit?
Why lay there, still and numb to the pressure of it all?
Why not break, cracking like age does on skin for fear to have space to grow in?
Why not fall, leaping to the palms that’ll love you once more, a pleasure you never thought could ignite again?
Why not exist, in this moment, this place, where her hands touches you in places you are afraid to look at yourself?