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Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "At first slowly. Then she gripped my arms and held me to her like she was afraid I would go away again for three years."

it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
I said I was sorry. Then she looked at me.
She hit me like thunder, and I had to lie down until I could breathe again
She told me I looked like a Henry, and this is how she would know me
I don't like her because she won't like me
She kissed me gently, just once, then walked away crying
When that cow would walk it was like she was dancing
She might not need me. But then again she might.
Would you like to penetrate her shell, insinuating yourself among the pages of the books she is reading?
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
She was an intellectual prostitute, seducing me with profound truisms
For a lawyer she was surprisingly like a child. Sometimes.
Her sleeves ride up on her arms when she moves
She handed me my first sharpened pencil.
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
I was throwing around useless proverbs when all she needed was to be held and told that she was beautiful
Because I still love her, because I know she still loves me.
She was a Surrealist Woman, She was like a Figure in a Dream
She was like a candle in the wind: unreliable
She is willing to attempt to retrieve the data. Go with her.
She wears her failed relationships like a shield
What's she gonna look like with a chimney on her?
i gave her my heart. she gave me a pen.
The portion of her face she allows me to see
I told her I could read her mind, but she didn't believe me. I could tell.
I got the feeling the Fairy Council was mad at me when the president knocked over her coffee to get a better grip on my neck
When she was new, she rolled around the sky like a black umbrella blown by the wind
I would have attempted to draw her if she had stayed that way.
I would have liked thunder when she left
if you fear spells, look away when she decides to share her hair with the wind.
He touched her once and she turned into a golden creature. He never touched her again.
I would have tried, but Charlotte kept Charlotte in the world of Charlotte and she barely heard me
she looked at me then whispered, we are all made of stardust
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.
Sex and death have both spat me out like spoiled milk for the same reason. I was not afraid.
They walk around her like she is in danger of breaking
The Firestone dealership was full to the brim with cars. But I reasoned I would need a boat, since my desire was to go to Ireland. Just then a harsh reminder surfaced; water is expensive in hell.
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 was inside the music, with her eyes closed
You can play with my ex-girlfriend, but treat her like the lady that she is.
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
At night, her eyes closed, she would
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
She probably thought your first language was English; your real first language was Joyce
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
She asked me if I loved her and I showed her the tattoo
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
She bought a new smile every week when we first started seeing each other. Then I had to buy them.
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 told me she remembers three things about me
He made me promise I would do this when I was next sad. So I promised myself I would not be sad again.
She left me on the boardwalk with my head held in my hands.
Three years she grew in sun and shower
She ties regrets around her fingers like forget-me-knots
She asked me to copy my poem into her notebook
It's too bad she won't live. But then again, who does?
Jessica, too tall but still lovely, was not sure she would or should drop the whale
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 grew a little older, while he was telling her
She is lobbing rainbows at me from across the room and I am swallowing them like fear.
She was watching me and I didn’t know it.
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
He stretched out his arms but she was not there
She was never mine. I always shared her.
I would like for you to make your arms for me the way you make your bed for you
She always was devious in her beauty
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
she turns and smiles, then walks away
To a girl who thought she was moving away
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
She asked me to read her a poem
She picked herself up, wiping away at her dignity
This is the first time she's texted me since the morning she left.
That was what her hunger was like: mesmerizing, directed, floating like a public secret just under the cloud cover.
her arms around me
It happened to everyone else; she swore it wouldn't to her
She must be what cocaine is like
I gave her my heart, she tore it apart, and who gives a fart.
She is like a kaleidoscope, a strange attractor, a superstition
She opened her eyes and spoke in a very normal voice, just as if she were sane
I don't think she even knows that I make her smile
And then you made the world go away for a little while
I come home, she lifted up her wings. I guess that this must be the place.
I should ask my barber where he gets his hair cut, then go there and slowly make my way up the chain
Opportunity: Only Three Hundred Twenty Six Light Years Away
You meant for this node to be read by me, and I would like to respond
he taught me to fly then took away my sky
She wore a bit more makeup than he generally liked
She Came and Went Like Wind (A Selkie Story)
I remember when it was me who made her skin flush
She calls him Sugarcane. He calls her Hurricane.
waiting for his arms to fold like wings around her
She does not take her trip. She does not shout out loud.
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.
She is the queen of accidental magic. Her used kleenexes, taken by the wind, become soulful ghosts.
She is like an onion
She is afraid of not being shy
she gave her heart to a falling star
She keeps her lies everywhere
Looks like 1984 was only n years off
She had fingernails that shined like justice
She tasted like whiskey and blood and cemetery dirt.
I haven't seen her in a month. She is still beautiful.
Would you like a Wah-Burger to go with those Crys?
She flies with her own wings
I remember when it was me who made her toilet flush
it was years before they met again, by chance
She opened her eyes, looked at a world made entirely of white light
When she sleeps, is she not moving her legs aside for an unknown garrison?
for a long time i was afraid i would forget; now i'm afraid i might not
She practices her speech
She disappeared as if he had only dreamed her
And she, with her beautiful words and such a fire burning inside
while she sleeps, i write myself into her life
I don't tell her these things, and she doesn't ask
She said her father died of cancer in the sixties
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.
I would like for love not to kill me, please
Only her hands would give her away
The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne
She nicknamed her vagina "Crusty"
Places a local (like me) would take you to in New Orleans
I would love for you to come to me with Christmas lights around your head, late night like a ghost
Would you like to see me masticate?
Spinning shapes like a song out of order. In the dark she can see fireflies.
She had eyes like the Blue Screen of Death
she gave herself that holocaust haircut. cinnamon colored clippings cover the motel bedspread like sprinkles.
she made them, like fire, expansible over all space
She tastes like gingerbread, too.
I was raised on red pepper and blood. I am so hot if you strike me I will light like a match.
What I used to be/Will pass away, and then you'll see/That all I want now/Is happiness for you and me
She couldn't imagine that he liked dancing
She doesn't look like Mother anymore
Jesus was a reactionary reformer, just like Martin Luther in later years.
she can't remember what it's like to be found
She wanted a garden tucked away behind a campground. I wanted a cozy apartment on the riverfront.
Would You Like To Play Again?
Would you mind never speaking to me again?
She said, while hugging a bowl of turnips close to her bosom
She thought about giving him her heart
She bruised her knee. This is how we met.
She found her bliss between the headphones, and pursed her lips.
When she woke up, her hands were still dreaming
Her grief is still too young to behave itself, so she never lets it out
serene. She sips her tea
She does not rustle but her flesh has the moonlit shade of a silver birch
Sometimes the apathy she saw made her want to curl up and cry
Her perception of how gorgeous she is will be evident in her lack of movement during sex
She sat in virginal white, eyes closed, with only her face in rose
the way she wears her weary
Then again, maybe he was recruiting for a cult
she had already found her party
Veronica loves manipulating her vagina until she explodes
Some nights, alone, he thinks of her, and some nights, alone, she thinks of him
does she need to touch her own face to know?
She who leaves men as flaming wrecks in the ditch on the side of the road in her wake, yea, even submarines
She plugs her tears in the way you'd keep a dam from breaking
She gets caught in the little world beneath her sheets
She Will Have Her Way: The Songs Of Tim & Neil Finn
She didn't wave goodbye so much as slightly raise her hand
She Will Have Her Way
why she makes her wishes at 7:07
she lit her thumb on fire
You put a hand on her hip, she permits it.
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
That week with her was like drinking bubbles
She knows no truth except her own.
She is so beautiful, I gave up Nihilism for her
An ocean away and here he was, seeping into her
She is the sea. Above her, he is thunder.
A girl I know had her jaw wired shut, and she vomited.
She always confused her greys with white.
She Called in Her Soul to Come and See
She smokes. It wraps around her wrists and clings to her neck.

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