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Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "I held her hand, and for a second I swear she squeezed back"

it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
My hands on her back; slipping into sleep
She didn't wave goodbye so much as slightly raise her hand
She left me on the boardwalk with my head held in my hands.
When she woke up, her hands were still dreaming
Her hands on my back; slipping into sleep
You put a hand on her hip, she permits it.
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
someday, when she will think back upon the time when she was as yet undishonored
She Called in Her Soul to Come and See
What's she gonna look like with a chimney on her?
second hand
She Will Have Her Way: The Songs Of Tim & Neil Finn
I don't think she even knows that I make her smile
She sat back in the bleachers
She crashed her car trying to avoid a butterfly
She smokes. It wraps around her wrists and clings to her neck.
She ties regrets around her fingers like forget-me-knots
I don't tell her these things, and she doesn't ask
while she sleeps, i write myself into her life
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
Sometimes the apathy she saw made her want to curl up and cry
I want to reach my hand into the dark and feel what reaches back
it is the future now, the second hand words are everywhere and plentiful
She flies with her own wings
She found her bliss between the headphones, and pursed her lips.
I turn my back for a second, and Erica gets married twice
Only her hands would give her away
She quietly hugged him back. At 8:30 she ate the rest of him.
Veronica loves manipulating her vagina until she explodes
At night, her eyes closed, she would
She sat in virginal white, eyes closed, with only her face in rose
She Will Have Her Way
she lit her thumb on fire
She practices her speech
And she, with her beautiful words and such a fire burning inside
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
Like the Back of My Hand
I gave her my heart, she tore it apart, and who gives a fart.
She asked me to read her a poem
She nicknamed her vagina "Crusty"
She asked me if I loved her and I showed her the tattoo
Go back for seconds
walking a coin across the back of your hand
Second Hand Rose
How to display the second hand on a digital clock radio
Now he dances to bring her back.
Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt
when still her eyes held water
She asked me to copy my poem into her notebook
Her grief is still too young to behave itself, so she never lets it out
It happened to everyone else; she swore it wouldn't to her
She thought about giving him her heart
The second hand is stopped just after the four, twitching periodically. Outside, a cold rain.
She took a California tilt and never came back.
Would you like to penetrate her shell, insinuating yourself among the pages of the books she is reading?
The portion of her face she allows me to see
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
He touched her once and she turned into a golden creature. He never touched her again.
Her back
You can play with my ex-girlfriend, but treat her like the lady that she is.
if you fear spells, look away when she decides to share her hair with the wind.
When she sleeps, is she not moving her legs aside for an unknown garrison?
she had already found her party
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
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
she left her handwriting all over the calendar
cities full of ravens, silent concrete echoing back while she sings
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
She touched my life for a second and made everything peach-scented
She stopped and took a second look
she gave her heart to a falling star
I would have attempted to draw her if she had stayed that way.
Looking back from time to time, her tears falling fast
the small of her back
She knows no truth except her own.
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.
And when she came back she was nobody's wife
Pig on her back
Here's to the dream on the back of your hand
He held my hand - once
You couldn't save me back then. I will save you now. Trust me, take my hand.
She handed me my first sharpened pencil.
The old hands you’ve baked around hers
Hands cupped into a half circle, he bent foward to help her catch a light
She started to fall, and knew she would never come back
His hand speaks a foreign language to her ribs.
I was throwing around useless proverbs when all she needed was to be held and told that she was beautiful
Robert Lionel Fanthorpe fills up the word count in a science fiction novel: she brushed her teeth
The good guys and the bad guys were on the back of the boat and I swear I only turned my back for a MINUTE but when I came back, they'd killed Mozart.
Her hand on my heart
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
I haven't seen her in a month. She is still beautiful.
She wears her failed relationships like a shield
She was a committed romantic and an anarcha-feminist. This was hard for her because it meant she couldn't blow up beautiful buildings.
They walk around her like she is in danger of breaking
She bruised her knee. This is how we met.
She said, while hugging a bowl of turnips close to her bosom
How Stella Got Her Groove Back
She opened her eyes and spoke in a very normal voice, just as if she were sane
I come home, she lifted up her wings. I guess that this must be the place.
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
serene. She sips her tea
She is so beautiful, I gave up Nihilism for her
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.
All of her seconds were unencumbered
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
She plugs her tears in the way you'd keep a dam from breaking
She does not take her trip. She does not shout out loud.
She is the queen of accidental magic. Her used kleenexes, taken by the wind, become soulful ghosts.
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
She always was devious in her beauty
She was never mine. I always shared her.
She calls him Sugarcane. He calls her Hurricane.
She gets caught in the little world beneath her sheets
Some nights, alone, he thinks of her, and some nights, alone, she thinks of him
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
I told her I could read her mind, but she didn't believe me. I could tell.
why she makes her wishes at 7:07
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
the way she wears her weary
She is the sea. Above her, he is thunder.
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
i gave her my heart. she gave me a pen.
She is willing to attempt to retrieve the data. Go with her.
She disappeared as if he had only dreamed her
She picked herself up, wiping away at her dignity
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
She opened her eyes, looked at a world made entirely of white light
She does not rustle but her flesh has the moonlit shade of a silver birch
She said her father died of cancer in the sixties
She keeps her lies everywhere
She, the Last Leviathan. She, the Station Agent. Chin on her Palm, she Watches Every Departure.
She always confused her greys with white.
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
A girl I know had her jaw wired shut, and she vomited.
How to test if your mother REALLY has eyes in the back of her head
Back in the day
Back Bay
laid back
On Our Backs
back door
short back and sides
The two most common things to be found on the back of a sci-fi/fantasy novel
Ol' Yellow Eyes is Back
back story
Ads from the back page of the Village Voice
back light
Back Street Banger
Bear Back
Please cut back on your car usage
Keep coming back
Back to the moon
Burning textbooks and then selling them back
Back to Reality
I swear I'm a real punk
I'll be back
The straw that broke the camel's back
I wish I could sleep on my back
the back roads
The Cat Came Back
If you could reset your life back 10 years, would you?
The most disturbing thing that I have ever seen on the back of a truck
Take Back Vermont
Hey! What's that worm hole doing in my back yard?
broken back
Exercises for the Back
Water off a duck's back
Back burner
Every strong wind one leans into and smiles should bring back a lost toy from childhood

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