Findings:

Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "Metal pipes drew lightning like she drew my lips to hers"

The picture she drew in my notebook
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.
What's she gonna look like with a chimney on her?
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
She ties regrets around her fingers like forget-me-knots
You can play with my ex-girlfriend, but treat her like the lady that she is.
I don't like her because she won't like me
She found her bliss between the headphones, and pursed her lips.
She wears her failed relationships like a shield
They walk around her like she is in danger of breaking
drew (user)
Dr Drew (user)
Drew Barrymore
Drew Carey
Drew Major
Nancy Drew
Drew
Drew University
Dr. Drew
Charles Richard Drew
The Drew Carey Show
Daniel Drew
Drew Theological Seminary
and then i drew some words for you
Drew Hayes
Drew Spunkmore (user)
Out-of-context Drew drops
Noble Drew Ali
Stanton Drew
Drew Markham
Of the Sword that Sigmund, Volsung's son, drew from the Branstock
John Drew Barrymore
Drew Bledsoe
David Drew
Drew Henson
d-rew (user)
Drew's Crew (user)
drew tinsley (user)
My Date with Drew
J.D. Drew
Nancy Drew Mystery Stories 2: The Hidden Staircase (1959 Revision)
Mr. Drew (user)
Drew Pearson
Drews (user)
Amakuni once drew an old sword of his from a box, suddenly overjoyed by something he had cast aside.
Nancy Drew on Campus #9: Broken Promises
Drew Brees and the incredibly stupid compromise
Drew Brees
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
She smokes. It wraps around her wrists and clings to her neck.
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
That was what her hunger was like: mesmerizing, directed, floating like a public secret just under the cloud cover.
For a lawyer she was surprisingly like a child. Sometimes.
When that cow would walk it was like she was dancing
like a tiger without her mountain
She is like an onion
Spinning shapes like a song out of order. In the dark she can see fireflies.
We kissed like we had never tasted lips
I would have liked thunder when she left
I thought paper cuts were like lightning
My friend is dating someone who likes him far more than he likes 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.
When she woke up, her hands were still dreaming
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
I come home, she lifted up her wings. I guess that this must be the place.
Sometimes the apathy she saw made her want to curl up and cry
The colors flow through her like a rainbow
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
He touched her once and she turned into a golden creature. He never touched her again.
Veronica loves manipulating her vagina until she explodes
Saturday night, the words falling from her lips
She is the queen of accidental magic. Her used kleenexes, taken by the wind, become soulful ghosts.
her lips on mine
She does not take her trip. She does not shout out loud.
I don't think she even knows that I make her smile
She opened her eyes and spoke in a very normal voice, just as if she were sane
She gets caught in the little world beneath her sheets
she had already found her party
i gave her my heart. she gave me a pen.
I told her I could read her mind, but she didn't believe me. I could tell.
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
She Will Have Her Way: The Songs Of Tim & Neil Finn
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.
Because I still love her, because I know she still loves me.
And her eyes lightnings and her shoulders wings
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt
Some nights, alone, he thinks of her, and some nights, alone, she thinks of him
Tied up tight, like a bride on her wedding night
A girl I know had her jaw wired shut, and she vomited.
I would have attempted to draw her if she had stayed that way.
She knows no truth except her own.
She keeps her lies everywhere
She asked me if I loved her and I showed her the tattoo
Robert Lionel Fanthorpe fills up the word count in a science fiction novel: she brushed her teeth
She said her father died of cancer in the sixties
She always confused her greys with white.
She nicknamed her vagina "Crusty"
She, the Last Leviathan. She, the Station Agent. Chin on her Palm, she Watches Every Departure.
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
The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne
When she was new, she rolled around the sky like a black umbrella blown by the wind
Passing the baby around like a peace pipe
the lightning strike sounded like a car falling out of the sky
She crashed her car trying to avoid a butterfly
She doesn't look like Mother anymore
She had eyes like the Blue Screen of Death
She is like a kaleidoscope, a strange attractor, a superstition
She told me I looked like a Henry, and this is how she would know me
She said, while hugging a bowl of turnips close to her bosom
I haven't seen her in a month. She is still beautiful.
Kisses your lips like the world is about to end
she gave her heart to a falling star
Fuck and please her like never before with the Stimulator!
This Motion Encompassed in the Touch of Her Lips
She calls him Sugarcane. He calls her Hurricane.
she left her handwriting all over the calendar
She thought about giving him her heart
She is so beautiful, I gave up Nihilism for her
serene. She sips her tea
I don't tell her these things, and she doesn't ask
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
Even the moon likes to change her colors
She plugs her tears in the way you'd keep a dam from breaking
I ate her love like a nine-piece bucket of chicken
At night, her eyes closed, she would
The portion of her face she allows me to see
She was never mine. I always shared her.
And her legs went on forever, like staring up at infinity
She who leaves men as flaming wrecks in the ditch on the side of the road in her wake, yea, even submarines
She asked me to copy my poem into her notebook
She always was devious in her beauty
does she need to touch her own face to know?
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
her ardent eyebrows are charcoal scimitars taut above eyes that breeze like open windows
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
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 grew a little older, while he was telling her
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 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
why she makes her wishes at 7:07
When she sleeps, is she not moving her legs aside for an unknown garrison?
I got a girl in the war, Paul, her eyes are like champagne
She didn't wave goodbye so much as slightly raise her hand
Her perception of how gorgeous she is will be evident in her lack of movement during sex
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 was so quiet that nobody heard her
if you fear spells, look away when she decides to share her hair with the wind.
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.
Her eyes were gray like a storm, and even more dangerous
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 practices her speech
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 bruised her knee. This is how we met.
she lit her thumb on fire
She is willing to attempt to retrieve the data. Go with her.
I like it when I dream of her. It's the only time we get to talk.
She disappeared as if he had only dreamed her
I told her the driftwood looked like Spain
That week with her was like drinking bubbles
while she sleeps, i write myself into her life
She opened her eyes, looked at a world made entirely of white light
A soft wonder bites her lips
She flies with her own wings
She Called in Her Soul to Come and See
It happened to everyone else; she swore it wouldn't to her
waiting for his arms to fold like wings around her
The Venusian Kazoo: The Art of Buzzing the Clitoris with Your Lips to Give Her a Mind-Blowing Orgasm
She asked me to read her a poem
Her grief is still too young to behave itself, so she never lets it out

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