Findings:

Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "Her voice flowing from her lips like a stream of the softest silk"

Saturday night, the words falling from her lips
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
I dreamed of her pulse long before I took it from her
I told her the driftwood looked like Spain
Her Voice
And her legs went on forever, like staring up at infinity
Today I clean her little fingerprints from my window
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
What's she gonna look like with a chimney on her?
She found her bliss between the headphones, and pursed her lips.
her ardent eyebrows are charcoal scimitars taut above eyes that breeze like open windows
Would you like to penetrate her shell, insinuating yourself among the pages of the books she is reading?
Gaily they went down in the lush field a treasure of valuables or specie or bullion lodged with a crust of bread into her coat of arms weaving currying the embroidering of silk in summer.
You can play with my ex-girlfriend, but treat her like the lady that she is.
Calling her number and having a male voice answer
Even the moon likes to change her colors
From Her to Eternity
the linear and the docile go feral at her command. we're on the run from rogue rivers and predatory trains.
If her secrets spilled from her eyes into his
The colors flow through her like a rainbow
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
Not her voice, but the way her voice changes,
like a tiger without her mountain
I got a girl in the war, Paul, her eyes are like champagne
the Egyptian cotton sheets and silk of her
I hide in the darkness of the cry that comes from her throat
Tied up tight, like a bride on her wedding night
This Motion Encompassed in the Touch of Her Lips
I don't like her because she won't like me
She wears her failed relationships like a shield
They walk around her like she is in danger of breaking
A soft wonder bites her lips
She plugs her tears in the way you'd keep a dam from breaking
I tried to memorise her, from beginning to end
somewhere her voice in the night whispering leaves
Fuck and please her like never before with the Stimulator!
I watched her from afar
It clings to her like dedication in the rain
I ate her love like a nine-piece bucket of chicken
'twas the telltale tink-tock of marionettes, he felt certain, that jingle-jangled from behind her shower curtain
His voice is like something from a distant age, the voice of the earth itself, the voice of a tree, the voice of a stone.
When I look into her eyes, I no longer care about what the world thinks. This is what it feels like to be alive.
I feel like I don't know her for a moment. It passes.
Inches away from her face
Things I've learned from living with an unwed mother and her two small children
In the Fifties, a visitor from Great Britain to New York City notices a young Black woman driving a limousine. A portly middle-aged man, race undetermined, is in the back. Tell her story.
Her eyes were gray like a storm, and even more dangerous
I like it when I dream of her. It's the only time we get to talk.
The Venusian Kazoo: The Art of Buzzing the Clitoris with Your Lips to Give Her a Mind-Blowing Orgasm
My friend is dating someone who likes him far more than he likes her
how many bird nests would be made from her lovely hair
That was what her hunger was like: mesmerizing, directed, floating like a public secret just under the cloud cover.
waiting for his arms to fold like wings around her
Driving without her voice
She opened her eyes and spoke in a very normal voice, just as if she were sane
That week with her was like drinking bubbles
Including her knees and a dragon made from a sock
her lips on mine
Funny -- she looks much smaller from outside her head
She ties regrets around her fingers like forget-me-knots
Looking back from time to time, her tears falling fast
She thought about giving him her heart
I still find strands of her hair in bed
His 'N' Hers
Her Handwriting
her eyes
All that was left of her was a damp handkerchief
Don't tell her she's beautiful
Stand in the doorway and watch her
I never saw her again
I think I've forgiven her
her arms around me
Property of Her Majesty The Queen
I was sure it was her
I gave her two daisies. This is how I met your mother.
I passed her on the street
Uh, are you looking at my joystick to impress her, or are you just an asshole?
I ran over an old woman with her own car
Herr Bob (user)
Written in her French Psalter
Neko Case and Her Boyfriends
Robert Lionel Fanthorpe fills up the word count in a science fiction novel: she brushed her teeth
Making her presence known (part 2)
For Emily, Whenever I May Find Her
I do not see her
watching her dance
Alice without opening her eyes says You have to stop crying you are shaking the bed.
Her knees
Her perception of how gorgeous she is will be evident in her lack of movement during sex
As the band laughed, her finger traced his spine, and he folded into her
Bathe her and bring her to me
All acts of love and pleasure are her rituals
Song of a Young Lady to her Ancient Lover
I can't tell the girl I love that I love her
Her Headlights Illuminated a Death
It happened to everyone else; she swore it wouldn't to her
The World I Made for Her
Sleepless amid her ships, her houses, her incalculable wealth
She flies with her own wings
She bruised her knee. This is how we met.
The Saran Wrap Dominatrix and Her Cellophane Bondage Slave
a total loss of control over her life
The Woman and Her Hen
Written with a Diamond on her Window at Woodstock
Take Her up to Monto
Things you can tell just by looking at her
If this were in person, I would have kissed her now
I don't think of her
A woman and her Cock
I daydream of her
Her Body Had Knots and Hollows
Someone outlined against the sky, the sun too bright to see her face
river, in all his innocent beauty and home in hers
Ads from the back page of the Village Voice
The Old Woman And Her Pig
The Lark and Her Young Ones
Pig on her back
She asked me to copy my poem into her notebook
dance with her
Her hands on my back; slipping into sleep
A New Student and Her Father
to let her know
What do girls think about guys when they catch guys staring at their breasts, but the guy is actually trying to read her shirt?
A man who never sees a pretty girl without loving her a little
I never called her momma
Somewhere someone is tired of taking her shit
Don't Kill Her Daddy with Careless Talk
My preconceived view of perfection could not accommodate her.
I met Death face to face, and I mocked her!
To Her Door
What makes her so cute?
Wouldn't it be nice if I could remember her
The Soul selects her own Society
I could hear her thoughts
The sun was caught playing unashamedly in her auburn hair, setting our world on fire with giddiness
Wouldn't it be nice if I could remember her as a firework
How Ozma Refused to Fight for Her Kingdom
using a circle to dot her "i"s
If you really care about someone, do not tell her to fuck off
I don't think I would want to date her now, anyway
my baby sleeps on her head
And her knee touched mine
Feel her pain
Her name was Natalie
The Milk-Woman and Her Pail
The Lark Burying Her Father
Now I know why I get the urge to kill her
I can see her face
Ribbed for her pleasure
Take Her in Your Arms
Her Royal Highness
Say that turning a teenage girl to stone is depriving the world of her
The Author to Her Book
Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt
Her back
Someone set her face on fire and put it out with an anchor chain
The Bitch and Her Whelps
A really good sandwich that ideath could make to take to work with her
putting on her makeup
Who let her get at the Johnny Walker
Meant For Her
Lady Daibu And Her Lover
Her Majesty
If You Followed Her Gaze
Making her presence known
the small of her back
What do I call her?
I remember when it was me who made her skin flush
She said, while hugging a bowl of turnips close to her bosom
Making her presence known (Part 3)
Voice from the Great Depression
The Bride Stripped Bare by Her Bachelors, Even
My love in her attire doth show her wit
A Fallen Caryatid Holding Her Stone
A Jury of Her Peers
Since I left her
I remember when it was me who made her toilet flush
The sad thing is, if you get her you'll be sick of her in a year
A Jury of Her Peers: 2
right under her surface
The woman with her legs apart
I don't want to see her

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