Findings:

Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "her, when she looks like that"

What's she gonna look like with a chimney on her?
When I look into her eyes, I no longer care about what the world thinks. This is what it feels like to be alive.
if you fear spells, look away when she decides to share her hair with the wind.
Her sleeves ride up on her arms when she moves
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
She doesn't look like Mother anymore
What does a candle's flame look like when it burns in space?
She told me I looked like a Henry, and this is how she would know me
She opened her eyes, looked at a world made entirely of white light
I would have liked thunder when she left
When she woke up, her hands were still dreaming
She ties regrets around her fingers like forget-me-knots
When that cow would walk it was like she was dancing
When she was new, she rolled around the sky like a black umbrella blown by the wind
I don't like her because she won't like me
You can play with my ex-girlfriend, but treat her like the lady that she is.
She wears her failed relationships like a shield
Would you like to penetrate her shell, insinuating yourself among the pages of the books she is reading?
When she sleeps, is she not moving her legs aside for an unknown garrison?
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
They walk around her like she is in danger of breaking
I told her the driftwood looked like Spain
I like it when I dream of her. It's the only time we get to talk.
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
That was what her hunger was like: mesmerizing, directed, floating like a public secret just under the cloud cover.
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
If the only sexual organ you have is a penis then everything looks like a vagina
What Does Your Soul Look Like
She plugs her tears in the way you'd keep a dam from breaking
Her eyes were gray like a storm, and even more dangerous
I come home, she lifted up her wings. I guess that this must be the place.
when you're done, you can let her die if that's what you want. Or you can wake her.
This isn't what it looks like
What did Jesus look like?
She keeps her lies everywhere
And she, with her beautiful words and such a fire burning inside
the way she wears her weary
she left her handwriting all over the calendar
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
She Called in Her Soul to Come and See
do not look upon her; you shall be blinded
At night, her eyes closed, she would
Poetry you found that you wrote when you were ten but secretly still like
It looks like you are writing a letter
it looks like rain
Late-night rally driving on the beach, or: Run like Hell when the cops come
When you blow out like a dead star
I don't like the looks of those teenagers
like a tiger without her mountain
Even the moon likes to change her colors
her ardent eyebrows are charcoal scimitars taut above eyes that breeze like open windows
I got a girl in the war, Paul, her eyes are like champagne
How to be strong for her, when all you want is to depend on her
does she need to touch her own face to know?
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
when still her eyes held water
When the Dancer Holds the Sun in Her Arms
You put a hand on her hip, she permits it.
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
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
when I touch her I hope it's you that smiles
She smokes. It wraps around her wrists and clings to her neck.
Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt
Good girls who look like bad girls
Be a model or just look like one
Painting a rock to make it look more like a rock
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
The night when I felt like speaking my mind
If the only tool you have is a hammer, then everything looks like a nail
How to do nothing, and still look like a hard worker
How did the matrix know what blue looked like?
Robert Lionel Fanthorpe fills up the word count in a science fiction novel: she brushed her teeth
A body that looks like a battlefield
when your pet starts to feel like a person
She sat in virginal white, eyes closed, with only her face in rose
She was never mine. I always shared her.
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 don't think she even knows that I make her smile
Sometimes the apathy she saw made her want to curl up and cry
Some nights, alone, he thinks of her, and some nights, alone, she thinks of him
And her legs went on forever, like staring up at infinity
She gets caught in the little world beneath her sheets
She Will Have Her Way: The Songs Of Tim & Neil Finn
She is the queen of accidental magic. Her used kleenexes, taken by the wind, become soulful ghosts.
she lit her thumb on fire
I feel like I don't know her for a moment. It passes.
She said, while hugging a bowl of turnips close to her bosom
I haven't seen her in a month. She is still beautiful.
I remember when it was me who made her skin flush
i gave her my heart. she gave me a pen.
I remember when it was me who made her toilet flush
Funny -- she looks much smaller from outside her head
She thought about giving him her heart
She asked me to read her a poem
I told her I could read her mind, but she didn't believe me. I could tell.
She said her father died of cancer in the sixties
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
I gave her my heart, she tore it apart, and who gives a fart.
She crashed her car trying to avoid a butterfly
She nicknamed her vagina "Crusty"
i like my body when it is with your
The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne
the leaves fell like raindrops when you touched the earth
Psst, you look like your sternum collapsed
She asked me to copy my poem into her notebook
Never look like you're staring
Tricks girls use to look like they swallow
She asked me if I loved her and I showed her the tattoo
For future reference, when in eternity or insanity; dreams I would like to have
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.
Look! That x looks like Jesus!
The iMac looks like the ass end of the New Beetle
Feeling like you're moving when you're really sitting still
Looks like I picked the wrong day to quit sniffing glue
For a lawyer she was surprisingly like a child. Sometimes.
What do girls think about guys when they catch guys staring at their breasts, but the guy is actually trying to read her shirt?
I don't remember what life was like when I was seven. I like the taste of air. What should I do?
She found her bliss between the headphones, and pursed her lips.
Aliens look like aliens because they're human
This guy in the computer lab who looks like he should be a doctor
Her perception of how gorgeous she is will be evident in her lack of movement during sex
When I get like this
When Did You See Her Last?
I don't tell her these things, and she doesn't ask
Fuck and please her like never before with the Stimulator!
He touched her once and she turned into a golden creature. He never touched her again.
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
She always was devious in her beauty
She bruised her knee. This is how we met.
The look in her eyes
The portion of her face she allows me to see
serene. She sips her tea
She who leaves men as flaming wrecks in the ditch on the side of the road in her wake, yea, even submarines
she had already found her party
It clings to her like dedication in the rain
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
Veronica loves manipulating her vagina until she explodes
She flies with her own wings
She Will Have Her Way
It happened to everyone else; she swore it wouldn't to her
It is her name that I think of when I think about being in love.
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
If I'd have shot her when I met her, I'd be out of jail by now.
She does not take her trip. She does not shout out loud.
The colors flow through her like a rainbow
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 sea. Above her, he is thunder.
She practices her speech
Her grief is still too young to behave itself, so she never lets it out
while she sleeps, i write myself into her life
She didn't wave goodbye so much as slightly raise her hand
That week with her was like drinking bubbles
radios work better when closer to her skin
She is willing to attempt to retrieve the data. Go with her.
When you can almost recognize her face, but you can't remember her name
She picked herself up, wiping away at her dignity
A girl I know had her jaw wired shut, and she vomited.
My friend is dating someone who likes him far more than he likes her
She knows no truth except her own.
She disappeared as if he had only dreamed 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 does not rustle but her flesh has the moonlit shade of a silver birch
waiting for his arms to fold like wings around her
Because I still love her, because I know she still loves me.
She calls him Sugarcane. He calls her Hurricane.
why she makes her wishes at 7:07
she gave her heart to a falling star
She always confused her greys with white.
She, the Last Leviathan. She, the Station Agent. Chin on her Palm, she Watches Every Departure.
Tied up tight, like a bride on her wedding night
The shadows made her look a little treacherous.
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.
pretends to sleep as he looks her over
She opened her eyes and spoke in a very normal voice, just as if she were sane

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