Findings:

Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "She looked at you like you tried to give her your baby"

What's she gonna look like with a chimney on her?
I gave her my heart, she tore it apart, and who gives a fart.
She ties regrets around her fingers like forget-me-knots
When I look into her eyes, I no longer care about what the world thinks. This is what it feels like to be alive.
She told me I looked like a Henry, and this is how she would know me
The memory cuts through her like the blade she wields
She doesn't look like Mother anymore
She wears her failed relationships like a shield
I don't like her because she won't like me
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
Would you like to penetrate her shell, insinuating yourself among the pages of the books she is reading?
You can play with my ex-girlfriend, but treat her like the lady that she is.
They walk around her like she is in danger of breaking
She opened her eyes, looked at a world made entirely of white light
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
I told her the driftwood looked like Spain
if you fear spells, look away when she decides to share her hair with the wind.
She was buttery. She was asking for it. She was delicious. Let's all give in.
Veronica loves manipulating her vagina until she explodes
She calls him Sugarcane. He calls her Hurricane.
Be a model or just look like one
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
Funny -- she looks much smaller from outside her head
i gave her my heart. she gave me a pen.
she had already found her party
She keeps her lies everywhere
For a lawyer she was surprisingly like a child. Sometimes.
I don't like the looks of those teenagers
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 come home, she lifted up her wings. I guess that this must be the place.
Only her hands would give her away
does she need to touch her own face to know?
She is willing to attempt to retrieve the data. Go with her.
do not look upon her; you shall be blinded
She always was devious in her beauty
Her perception of how gorgeous she is will be evident in her lack of movement during sex
Here's Me Inside Her But I Can Tell From Her Vagina She Doesn't Really Care
Good girls who look like bad girls
How to do nothing, and still look like a hard worker
Looks like I picked the wrong day to quit sniffing glue
When that cow would walk it was like she was dancing
Give Her To The Monsters
She opened her eyes and spoke in a very normal voice, just as if she were sane
He touched her once and she turned into a golden creature. He never touched her again.
serene. She sips her tea
Tied up tight, like a bride on her wedding night
Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt
I got a girl in the war, Paul, her eyes are like champagne
She gets caught in the little world beneath her sheets
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
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.
Because I still love her, because I know she still loves me.
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
She is the queen of accidental magic. Her used kleenexes, taken by the wind, become soulful ghosts.
sometimes things that look scary can be so beautiful, if you give them a chance
She Called in Her Soul to Come and See
like a tiger without her mountain
Painting a rock to make it look more like a rock
Tricks girls use to look like they swallow
She crashed her car trying to avoid a butterfly
She, the Last Leviathan. She, the Station Agent. Chin on her Palm, she Watches Every Departure.
Would you like to try a sample?
If the only sexual organ you have is a penis then everything looks like a vagina
Don't kill your invisible husband to see what he looks like or you'll sob your heart out. But don't worry about the millions of invisible men coming to attack your village because they won't kill you if you don't know how to fight them.
What does a candle's flame look like when it burns in space?
Look siad me Be like me
Neon lights under your car do not make it look like it's floating
This guy in the computer lab who looks like he should be a doctor
Psst, you look like your sternum collapsed
pretends to sleep as he looks her over
Give it the old college try
She asked me to copy my poem into her notebook
She flies with her own wings
She bruised her knee. This is how we met.
She thought about giving him her heart
The Venusian Kazoo: The Art of Buzzing the Clitoris with Your Lips to Give Her a Mind-Blowing Orgasm
When she woke up, her hands were still dreaming
She sat in virginal white, eyes closed, with only her face in rose
She does not rustle but her flesh has the moonlit shade of a silver birch
I don't tell her these things, and she doesn't ask
The portion of her face she allows me to see
Even the moon likes to change her colors
She is so beautiful, I gave up Nihilism for her
The colors flow through her like a rainbow
The way you look at me gives me butterflies
sunset rainwater turns her sidewalk chalk-art into a sherbert delight; a surprise gift from chaos that tumbles her like tinkling bells onto the wet grass
She Will Have Her Way: The Songs Of Tim & Neil Finn
Why poems are like babies...
When she sleeps, is she not moving her legs aside for an unknown garrison?
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
Some nights, alone, he thinks of her, and some nights, alone, she thinks of him
She who leaves men as flaming wrecks in the ditch on the side of the road in her wake, yea, even submarines
She is the sea. Above her, he is thunder.
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
she lit her thumb on fire
I like it when I dream of her. It's the only time we get to talk.
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
She does not take her trip. She does not shout out loud.
waiting for his arms to fold like wings around her
She nicknamed her vagina "Crusty"
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
She asked me if I loved her and I showed her the tattoo
Her sleeves ride up on her arms when she moves
she gave her heart to a falling star
What Does Your Soul Look Like
The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne
For the first time in either of her lives, she is held gently
She always confused her greys with white.
She asked me to read her a poem
Never look like you're staring
The iMac looks like the ass end of the New Beetle
A baby's eyes attract attention like television
it looks like rain
If the only tool you have is a hammer, then everything looks like a nail
It looks like you are writing a letter
Passing the baby around like a peace pipe
A body that looks like a battlefield
This isn't what it looks like
What did Jesus look like?
How did the matrix know what blue looked like?
When she was new, she rolled around the sky like a black umbrella blown by the wind
Aliens look like aliens because they're human
Look! That x looks like Jesus!
My friend is dating someone who likes him far more than he likes her
Life is like a strange, unpopular restaraunt filled with odd waiters who give you things you never asked for and don't always like.
Robert Lionel Fanthorpe fills up the word count in a science fiction novel: she brushed her teeth
My dreams could give you nightmares, baby.
I haven't seen her in a month. She is still beautiful.
She found her bliss between the headphones, and pursed her lips.
It happened to everyone else; she swore it wouldn't to her
my baby sleeps on her head
Look where all this talking got us, baby
She said, while hugging a bowl of turnips close to her bosom
Snatched away, like the Lindberg baby, who everyone talked about, which explains my lifelong fear of ladders.
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.
She was a committed romantic and an anarcha-feminist. This was hard for her because it meant she couldn't blow up beautiful buildings.
Fuck and please her like never before with the Stimulator!
she left her handwriting all over the calendar
Her grief is still too young to behave itself, so she never lets it out
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
She plugs her tears in the way you'd keep a dam from breaking
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
She was never mine. I always shared her.
Sometimes the apathy she saw made her want to curl up and cry
I have a sick mind. I like to pleasure myself with a hockey stick while gargling with pureed baby.
The look in her eyes
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
her ardent eyebrows are charcoal scimitars taut above eyes that breeze like open windows
And her legs went on forever, like staring up at infinity
I tried to memorise her, from beginning to end
She Will Have Her Way
And she, with her beautiful words and such a fire burning inside
It clings to her like dedication in the rain
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
why she makes her wishes at 7:07
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
the way she wears her weary
I ate her love like a nine-piece bucket of chicken
while she sleeps, i write myself into her life
I told her I could read her mind, but she didn't believe me. I could tell.
She practices her speech
I feel like I don't know her for a moment. It passes.
She picked herself up, wiping away at her dignity
You put a hand on her hip, she permits it.
She didn't wave goodbye so much as slightly raise her hand
She disappeared as if he had only dreamed her
That week with her was like drinking bubbles
A girl I know had her jaw wired shut, and she vomited.
Her eyes were gray like a storm, and even more dangerous
At night, her eyes closed, she would
born baby blue, tonight she is burning red
I would have attempted to draw her if she had stayed that way.
She said her father died of cancer in the sixties
The shadows made her look a little treacherous.
She smokes. It wraps around her wrists and clings to her neck.
That was what her hunger was like: mesmerizing, directed, floating like a public secret just under the cloud cover.
She knows no truth except her own.
tiny alien ideas sprout in his brain, like baby incisors erupting from his testicles

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