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Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "she never really knew if it was my child or her exes"

you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
She was never mine. I always shared her.
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
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.
Seems I might have stolen the blue part of her rainbow, but all I really did was make it bigger, a way bigger blue
She started to fall, and knew she would never come back
She knew what she was doing
Despite her station, the quarry was never alone
I'm sorry I was speeding, officer, but I really have to get to the hospital
Her grief is still too young to behave itself, so she never lets it out
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
For a lawyer she was surprisingly like a child. Sometimes.
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
I can never be sure if it was real or just another illusion
He touched her once and she turned into a golden creature. He never touched her again.
There was never supposed to be an Episode 7, 8, or 9
She was a committed romantic and an anarcha-feminist. This was hard for her because it meant she couldn't blow up beautiful buildings.
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
Jessica, too tall but still lovely, was not sure she would or should drop the whale
She always was devious in her beauty
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
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
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
She knows no truth except her own.
Where was her angel all those times the sky clouded over
I don't think I was rude to her, just cold and curt
When I was very young, I knew that the world was made of honey.
she gave her heart to a falling star
I never called her momma
When she sleeps, is she not moving her legs aside for an unknown garrison?
She keeps her lies everywhere
When I was five years old, I knew I was going to die
A little child could never kill this clean
When she woke up, her hands were still dreaming
A really good sandwich that ideath could make to take to work with her
She does not take her trip. She does not shout out loud.
She picked herself up, wiping away at her dignity
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 flies with her own wings
there was more poetry in her shopping lists than in any of my rhymes
I never stopped watching myself reflected in her eyes
She asked me to read her a poem
The Prettiest Girl I Never Knew
The first time I knew I was different
She found her bliss between the headphones, and pursed her lips.
I never saw her again
notes I never gave her
i clung to her cloak. (or flew)
she left her handwriting all over the calendar
Fuck and please her like never before with the Stimulator!
Her name was Natalie
she had already found her party
She opened her eyes, looked at a world made entirely of white light
The portion of her face she allows me to see
She didn't wave goodbye so much as slightly raise her hand
Because I still love her, because I know she still loves me.
why she makes her wishes at 7:07
Veronica loves manipulating her vagina until she explodes
I remember when it was me who made her skin flush
She nicknamed her vagina "Crusty"
She crashed her car trying to avoid a butterfly
I knew she wasn't faking
You knew I was a rattlesnake when you picked me up
I Knew Her Through a Window
It's okay. I thought I knew her too.
What I would do If I knew what was good for me
The land of our fathers, stolen before we knew it was our own
You never knew
You will know me by those colors, deep and bold, of the heart you never knew.
It was the year 2000. Nobody knew what was coming.
I knew it was over the moment I bought those shoes
I stared into the muddled sky with tears running down my face in small rivers, and I knew then that there was no hope
I would have attempted to draw her if she had stayed that way.
A Child Was Born in 64
A man who never sees a pretty girl without loving her a little
She asked me to copy my poem into her notebook
Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt
She opened her eyes and spoke in a very normal voice, just as if she were sane
I was a Difficult Child
I don't tell her these things, and she doesn't ask
This child has talent. She needs a better box of paints.
I don't remember what her name was so let's call her Doris
She does not rustle but her flesh has the moonlit shade of a silver birch
The light on the bottom of the pool that you thought was real when you were a child
A day when no child is murdered or dies of hunger or preventable disease
I don't think she even knows that I make her smile
She gets caught in the little world beneath her sheets
She Will Have Her Way: The Songs Of Tim & Neil Finn
His ex-wife was so frigid, her clitoris was only the tip of the iceberg.
Most adults forget what it was like to be a child once they hit a certain age
while she sleeps, i write myself into her life
you never felt her hot blood on your face but, hey, who's keeping track
She disappeared as if he had only dreamed her
She is the sea. Above her, he is thunder.
I told her I could read her mind, but she didn't believe me. I could tell.
She said, while hugging a bowl of turnips close to her bosom
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.
She asked me if I loved her and I showed her the tattoo
the ocean never ceasing in her secret whispers to the land
She smokes. It wraps around her wrists and clings to her neck.
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 you're done, you can let her die if that's what you want. Or you can wake her.
She always confused her greys with white.
I gave her my heart, she tore it apart, and who gives a fart.
I Never Knew You
I have never been sure that you knew quite how much I loved you
making certain he was touching her
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 Called in Her Soul to Come and See
I never knew
I always knew I would have a 21st birthday but I never thought I'd be 21
What if Everything You Thought You Knew About AIDS Was Wrong?
I did not need it. I was strong. I was steady. I knew what I was doing.
It wasn't until later, when I was washing the blood off my hands, I even knew they were dead
This was when I knew my childhood was over
I never knew how much snow it took to flush a toilet.
Dali knew elephants and monsters that Bukowski never drank away
I am the child with her nose pressed up against the window.
Strange, you never knew
UK's response to 'Extroadinary Rendition': SIS knew US was torturing suspects.
I could do without it, if I knew what it was
She thought about giving him her heart
I remember when it was me who made her toilet flush
Robert Lionel Fanthorpe fills up the word count in a science fiction novel: she brushed her teeth
when she saw the funny side, we introduced my child bride to whisky and gin
Is spanking really child abuse?
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
She ties regrets around her fingers like forget-me-knots
She wears her failed relationships like a shield
All that was left of her was a damp handkerchief
If you really care about someone, do not tell her to fuck off
She bruised her knee. This is how we met.
I was sure it was her
I was wrong as a child, to think old people were stupid for asking me where the day had gone. Now I understand... we older people do not live.
They walk around her like she is in danger of breaking
How to test if your mother REALLY has eyes in the back of her head
What's she gonna look like with a chimney on her?
Would you like to penetrate her shell, insinuating yourself among the pages of the books she is reading?
She calls him Sugarcane. He calls her Hurricane.
Uh, are you looking at my joystick to impress her, or are you just an asshole?
You can play with my ex-girlfriend, but treat her like the lady that she is.
Sometimes the apathy she saw made her want to curl up and cry
I come home, she lifted up her wings. I guess that this must be the place.
serene. She sips her tea
She is so beautiful, I gave up Nihilism for her
She sat in virginal white, eyes closed, with only her face in rose
It happened to everyone else; she swore it wouldn't to her
I Thought I Was A Child
She who leaves men as flaming wrecks in the ditch on the side of the road in her wake, yea, even submarines
At night, her eyes closed, she would
There Was a Child Went Forth
She plugs her tears in the way you'd keep a dam from breaking
I set my sister up with her husband, and all I got was this great dress and a trip to Hawaii
the way she wears her weary
She is the queen of accidental magic. Her used kleenexes, taken by the wind, become soulful ghosts.
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, that he should weep for her?
She Will Have Her Way
And she, with her beautiful words and such a fire burning inside
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?
if you fear spells, look away when she decides to share her hair with the wind.
i gave her my heart. she gave me a pen.
All he left her was alone
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 willing to attempt to retrieve the data. Go with her.
That week with her was like drinking bubbles
She practices her speech
Her hair was seaweed and the Pacific wind sang
she lit her thumb on fire
You put a hand on her hip, she permits it.
literature is a child of experience always, of knowledge never
She said her father died of cancer in the sixties
She, the Last Leviathan. She, the Station Agent. Chin on her Palm, she Watches Every Departure.
A girl I know had her jaw wired shut, and she vomited.
That was what her hunger was like: mesmerizing, directed, floating like a public secret just under the cloud cover.
The child, she cannot sleep
Helping the child or adolescent trauma survivor

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