Words That Rhyme With Myself Novels & Stories

The words echoed like a brand burned beneath my skin: Moonchild. My ribs pulsed. Once. Twice. Hard. What’s happening?

Imagine me doing something like Bear Grylls. "Adventurer Taylen Nova. Your show could be called Novatures." I laughed. Jibin would have found that funny. Wait did I miss him? Nah. I just missed having someone to talk to I guess. "You're a weird kid." I told myself then asked, "Wait a minute, why am I talking to myself out loud?" I shrugged my shoulders. I better get used to only having myself around as a companion. I pulled the pills out of my pocket, I only had 1 left. Fridge magnets. I left the others in the car! You're an idiot Taylen.

I hear a few chuckles as my cheeks flush. "Yes ma'am," I mumble, turning my attention back to her. She's lecturing on the novel we've just started earlier this week. I've already read this novel, 'Of Mice and Men' so I zoned out on her lecturing. Drake smirks at me before turning his head forward.

The ache in my wounds deepened. I stood before the mirror and pulled off my dress. The reflection showed raw, red welts and bleeding cuts crisscrossing my body. I remembered how, even the smallest scratch on my finger was enough for Joseph to fuss over. He would clean it himself, wrap it carefully, forbid the maids to take over. And now, I picked up a damp wipe, awkwardly twisting my body to clean the gashes. The sting of the alcohol was sharp. I leaned against the chair back, biting my lip, afraid to breathe too hard through the pain.

My mouth falls open on its own as a single word echoes from deep within me and leaves my lips, “Mate.”

The poem is titled 'SPEAK TO YOURSELF' and it reads thus. ******************************************************* How often do you converse with yourself? How often do you speak to yourself? How often do you listen to yourself when no one is speaking? How often do you minister to yourself? How often do you truly embrace yourself, your pain, your flaws, your truth, your fears... SPEAK TO YOURSELF Say to yourself.... "Though I am shattered and bereaved and I might wither with the wind but like seeds, I can sprout out of the ground, new and better. "

“How did you even fall for him in the first place? He doesn’t seem nearly as handsome as I am.” Damian felt his chest tighten as his breathing grew shallow. It was as though someone had punched him twice in the ribs. Still, his eyes were locked on Justin’s hand resting around my waist. If this were his own turf, Damian would have pulled out a gun and blown that hand to pieces without hesitation. Justin loosened his grip on my waist. “Don’t glare at my hand like that. It’s rude. Still, I suppose I should properly introduce myself. I’m Justin.”

I whisper to myself. The beat drops. I step into the light.

I whisper to myself. And just like that, my insecurities ruin my giddy mood.

Respect myself. Right? …Right? God help me.