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Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "It might help if she planned ahead, but that means thinking backwards and it hurts her ankles when she does that."

She does not rustle but her flesh has the moonlit shade of a silver birch
I told her I could read her mind, but she didn't believe me. I could tell.
She might not need me. But then again she might.
I'm sorry I was speeding, officer, but I really have to get to the hospital
if you fear spells, look away when she decides to share her hair with the wind.
She does not take her trip. She does not shout out loud.
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
She really does want to clap along, but at the same time she doesn't want to let the bird get out.
A language full of words she understands, but does not know the sound of, yet.
When she sleeps, is she not moving her legs aside for an unknown garrison?
Susan Goldman, who has cervical cancer, is partly thankful as she braces herself but changes her mind as she's sprayed with burning jet fuel.
Here's Me Inside Her But I Can Tell From Her Vagina She Doesn't Really Care
In a quiet grove of pines under a frosty sky, he helped her out of the sack. She wore severe white hospital pajamas and was beautiful.
does she need to touch her own face to know?
When she woke up, her hands were still dreaming
You can play with my ex-girlfriend, but treat her like the lady that she is.
she doesn't write, doesn't tell you stories, but somehow it's her words that spring to mind at those crucial, terrifying moments, and for that you are eternally grateful
It's too bad she won't live. But then again, who does?
She is a night of dark trees, but he who is not afraid of her darkness will find banks full of roses under her cypresses
Her sleeves ride up on her arms when she moves
Some nights, alone, he thinks of her, and some nights, alone, she thinks of him
When she was new, she rolled around the sky like a black umbrella blown by the wind
she lit her thumb on fire
When you have a trip planned, but don't go, you need to cancel your reservations
Robert Lionel Fanthorpe fills up the word count in a science fiction novel: she brushed her teeth
Venus, when she is the evening star
She asked me if I loved her and I showed her the tattoo
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
She who abandons does not return
They walk around her like she is in danger of breaking
She asked me to copy my poem into her notebook
She Looked Slutty. I Don't Mean That in a Bad Way.
She gets caught in the little world beneath her sheets
She hated the screen porch, but she loved the heat
i gave her my heart. she gave me a pen.
The memory cuts through her like the blade she wields
She asked me to read her a poem
every little thing she does is magic
she does not know how much I need this (idea) mp3 (recording)
She calls him Sugarcane. He calls her Hurricane.
She said, while hugging a bowl of turnips close to her bosom
when she saw the funny side, we introduced my child bride to whisky and gin
He touched her once and she turned into a golden creature. He never touched her again.
I don't think she even knows that I make her smile
She Will Have Her Way: The Songs Of Tim & Neil Finn
She could hit four octaves above high-C, but she never performed in public
I would have tried, but Charlotte kept Charlotte in the world of Charlotte and she barely heard me
But she heard it
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
She Called in Her Soul to Come and See
as she suddenly realizes that the Heart that she has been praying to did not send somebody... but is, instead, here.
When you call a girl beautiful, what does it mean?
She keeps her lies everywhere
At night, her eyes closed, she would
And when she came back she was nobody's wife
When she shouts BE QUIET THE NEIGHBORS WILL HEAR IF YOU'RE NOT QUIET
every day she stands there, waiting. every day, she's gone when i get there.
someday, when she will think back upon the time when she was as yet undishonored
When she died
Another bed she does not own
Her perception of how gorgeous she is will be evident in her lack of movement during sex
I don't like her because she won't like me
Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt
Her grief is still too young to behave itself, so she never lets it out
What's she gonna look like with a chimney on her?
It happened to everyone else; she swore it wouldn't to her
Sandra will do as Sandra always does, that is, whatever she wants
What do girls think about guys when they catch guys staring at their breasts, but the guy is actually trying to read her shirt?
Sometimes the apathy she saw made her want to curl up and cry
She doesn't know what he sees, but sometimes it makes his face beautiful
Hours pass, but she still counts the minutes
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
She Looks Good, but She Has an Ugly Heart
And she, with her beautiful words and such a fire burning inside
The portion of her face she allows me to see
while she sleeps, i write myself into her life
She didn't write like Emily Dickinson, but she did live in a house overlooking a cemetery, and I guess he thought that was important.
She disappeared as if he had only dreamed her
She always confused her greys with white.
A girl I know had her jaw wired shut, and she vomited.
There's a sign on the wall. But she wants to be sure. Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings.
For the first time in either of her lives, she is held gently
When that cow would walk it was like she was dancing
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
She is willing to attempt to retrieve the data. Go with her.
I come home, she lifted up her wings. I guess that this must be the place.
You mean she can
I would have liked thunder when she left
Is it fair for him to love me when she craves his touch?
I was throwing around useless proverbs when all she needed was to be held and told that she was beautiful
Well, when the president does it that means that it is not illegal.
When she is talking to him
Just because she's nice to you doesn't mean she wants to fuck you
It must be morning when she dreams.
And When She Sings
I haven't seen her in a month. She is still beautiful.
She ties regrets around her fingers like forget-me-knots
She bruised her knee. This is how we met.
She found her bliss between the headphones, and pursed her lips.
She thought about giving him her heart
She opened her eyes and spoke in a very normal voice, just as if she were sane
She was a committed romantic and an anarcha-feminist. This was hard for her because it meant she couldn't blow up beautiful buildings.
She flies with her own wings
Would you like to penetrate her shell, insinuating yourself among the pages of the books she is reading?
She sat in virginal white, eyes closed, with only her face in rose
She wears her failed relationships like a shield
she is the sort of woman who, when put to the magnifying glass, refused to burn
What the hell was she thinking?
She is so beautiful, I gave up Nihilism for her
Jessica, too tall but still lovely, was not sure she would or should drop the whale
She always was devious in her beauty
All right. She can fly circles around Uranus, but where's the bathroom?
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
She who leaves men as flaming wrecks in the ditch on the side of the road in her wake, yea, even submarines
He stretched out his arms but she was not there
The flowers smiled, but she was gone
She is the queen of accidental magic. Her used kleenexes, taken by the wind, become soulful ghosts.
I note that she is pretty, but we are off into the city, my werewolf friend and I
Seems I might have stolen the blue part of her rainbow, but all I really did was make it bigger, a way bigger blue
Veronica loves manipulating her vagina until she explodes
She plugs her tears in the way you'd keep a dam from breaking
She Spoke in Nothing But Lies
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
the way she wears her weary
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
she had already found her party
She opened her eyes, looked at a world made entirely of white light
She didn't wave goodbye so much as slightly raise her hand
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
She Will Have Her Way
A woman has 30 ways of laughing, but only 1 way in which she cries.
You put a hand on her hip, she permits it.
She's smarter than me but she's also more quiet, therefore she has no personality which makes me feel better
why she makes her wishes at 7:07
She may be pretty and have more money than me but she doesn't write songs about you.
She was never mine. I always shared her.
She practices her speech
She picked herself up, wiping away at her dignity
Because I still love her, because I know she still loves me.
before the internet when teen had REAL relationship the boy could look at the girl and judge the diameter of her thorax with his feelers and determine whether the mating ritual could commence but NO MORE. evil woman use her computer sorcery
I keep thinking I'm so tough but I rarely care enough to prove it. So am I really tough then? Or does every dog just have its day?
How can I help but use your eyes as a means for self-asphyxiation?
She is the sea. Above her, he is thunder.
She knows no truth except her own.
There is no Goddess but Goddess and She is Your Goddess
I would have attempted to draw her if she had stayed that way.
She smokes. It wraps around her wrists and clings to her neck.
She crashed her car trying to avoid a butterfly
Working does not mean thinking
She nicknamed her vagina "Crusty"
She said her father died of cancer in the sixties
she gave her heart to a falling star
she left her handwriting all over the calendar
I gave her my heart, she tore it apart, and who gives a fart.
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
She, the Last Leviathan. She, the Station Agent. Chin on her Palm, she Watches Every Departure.
When you can almost recognize her face, but you can't remember her name
I don't tell her these things, and she doesn't ask
What was I thinking when I said it didn't hurt?
She is stupidly keeping herself a secret, when I know she has sparkly things to show me
When she was bad
And when she turned into a man, we were so proud
She bought a new smile every week when we first started seeing each other. Then I had to buy them.
She will remember your heart when men are fairy tales in books written by rabbits
She is what happens when silence makes love with night.
She was thinking of a boy in California who had a couch and a job
she does not know how much I need this
She dumped me when she found out I'd been faking my Scottish accent
serene. She sips her tea
His face when she fell
I remember when it was me who made her skin flush
You can't stop thinking of her: this is how you explained it, a proof of your being in love.
I remember when it was me who made her toilet flush
When words fail me, music helps. I can at least sing along.
What do you need, and how might I help?
So bashful when I spied her

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