The ribcage wishes it had a different name. Maybe something like “Spine”. Something that says, “I’ve got your back, but you are free to go.” I write so my heart will know it is free to go. The way the river knows. I want nothing more than to be a smooth stone. To be softened by the roughest waters. Skip me on my back across the red sea. I have always been awkward in my human. Some people love themselves easily. For me, it feels like strange, like kissing with braces.