Findings:

Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "to cover for her if she had to leave early"

she had already found her party
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
She disappeared as if he had only dreamed her
I would have attempted to draw her if she had stayed that way.
A girl I know had her jaw wired shut, and she vomited.
She who leaves men as flaming wrecks in the ditch on the side of the road in her wake, yea, even submarines
The walls she had built around herself cracked and crumbled
He touched her once and she turned into a golden creature. He never touched her again.
She asked me to copy my poem into her notebook
i gave her my heart. she gave me a pen.
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
All the things she had at one point wanted to be
Her sleeves ride up on her arms when she moves
Would you like to penetrate her shell, insinuating yourself among the pages of the books she is reading?
It happened to everyone else; she swore it wouldn't to her
She does not take her trip. She does not shout out loud.
She is the sea. Above her, he is thunder.
somewhere her voice in the night whispering leaves
she gave her heart to a falling star
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
Milk left on the counter overnight turned sour. She had turned as well.
Her perception of how gorgeous she is will be evident in her lack of movement during sex
I come home, she lifted up her wings. I guess that this must be the place.
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
I don't like her because she won't like me
So she could feel as if she had danced
She Will Have Her Way: The Songs Of Tim & Neil Finn
I don't think she even knows that I make her smile
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 Called in Her Soul to Come and See
Make the Moon Cover her Blushing Face
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
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
She had a 10 million candlepower smile
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 pulls the covers tighter
She leaves a busy emptiness in the room
Empty at last she had room to unfurl
Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt
They had left, but her mascara kept running
She was feminine in the most displaced sense I had ever seen, a known quality refracted through stained glass windows.
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 ties regrets around her fingers like forget-me-knots
What's she gonna look like with a chimney on her?
You can play with my ex-girlfriend, but treat her like the lady that she is.
She opened her eyes and spoke in a very normal voice, just as if she were sane
She bruised her knee. This is how we met.
She had fingernails that shined like justice
Veronica loves manipulating her vagina until she explodes
she gave herself that holocaust haircut. cinnamon colored clippings cover the motel bedspread like sprinkles.
She plugs her tears in the way you'd keep a dam from breaking
the way she wears her weary
When she sleeps, is she not moving her legs aside for an unknown garrison?
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
She opened her eyes, looked at a world made entirely of white light
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
She is willing to attempt to retrieve the data. Go with her.
She picked herself up, wiping away at her dignity
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
She asked me to read her a poem
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
The portion of her face she allows me to see
She had eyes like the Blue Screen of Death
She crashed her car trying to avoid a butterfly
That was what her hunger was like: mesmerizing, directed, floating like a public secret just under the cloud cover.
She always confused her greys with white.
She nicknamed her vagina "Crusty"
She had the most wonderful grin in the world
she had mood ring eyes
She had become a mutton for punishment and he was a wolf
She bought a new smile every week when we first started seeing each other. Then I had to buy them.
Her lack of response opened a gate through which my mind started to wander, into a wilderness where the shadows all had teeth...
She hit me like thunder, and I had to lie down until I could breathe again
Robert Lionel Fanthorpe fills up the word count in a science fiction novel: she brushed her teeth
She Had to Be Sure
She had incongruity for breakfast because she felt like it
She had never kissed someone so old.
She was thinking of a boy in California who had a couch and a job
She found her bliss between the headphones, and pursed her lips.
She thought about giving him her heart
She flies with her own wings
She does not rustle but her flesh has the moonlit shade of a silver birch
Her grief is still too young to behave itself, so she never lets it out
She wears her failed relationships like a shield
I haven't seen her in a month. She is still beautiful.
When she woke up, her hands were still dreaming
She sat in virginal white, eyes closed, with only her face in rose
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.
Sometimes the apathy she saw made her want to curl up and cry
I don't tell her these things, and she doesn't ask
She is so beautiful, I gave up Nihilism for her
she left her handwriting all over the calendar
She calls him Sugarcane. He calls her Hurricane.
She said, while hugging a bowl of turnips close to her bosom
Her Body Had Knots and Hollows
She was never mine. I always shared her.
She always was devious in her beauty
does she need to touch her own face to know?
At night, her eyes closed, she would
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
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
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
She Will Have Her Way
why she makes her wishes at 7:07
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
She gets caught in the little world beneath her sheets
She is the queen of accidental magic. Her used kleenexes, taken by the wind, become soulful ghosts.
serene. She sips her tea
while she sleeps, i write myself into her life
I told her I could read her mind, but she didn't believe me. I could tell.
She practices her speech
she lit her thumb on fire
While I watched the leaves get caught in her hair.
You put a hand on her hip, she permits it.
She didn't wave goodbye so much as slightly raise her hand
She, the Last Leviathan. She, the Station Agent. Chin on her Palm, she Watches Every Departure.
She knows no truth except her own.
Because I still love her, because I know she still loves me.
if you fear spells, look away when she decides to share her hair with the wind.
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
I gave her my heart, she tore it apart, and who gives a fart.
She Wanted to Leave
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
She keeps her lies everywhere
She asked me if I loved her and I showed her the tattoo
She smokes. It wraps around her wrists and clings to her neck.
She said her father died of cancer in the sixties
When we see the early signs of daylight fading, we leave just before it's gone.
Deep Cover
Hide under the covers
Cover
cover story
cover girl
The Joy of Pair Bonding: What This Manual Covers
On reading letters that bitch about scantily-clad models on magazine covers
pound cover paper
Movie reviews and book covers
Windows tries to cover up its mistakes
electric mattress cover
manhole cover
Cover songs which are indistinguishable from the originals
punk covers
Psychedelic Guide: Back Cover Text
Cover letter
Under Cover of Darkness
Tonneau cover
Cover two defense
Putting a duvet cover back on by yourself
COVER (user)
Tattered Cover Bookstore
set cover
How to design a heavy metal album cover
Judge a book by its cover
The Quick and Dirty Resume and Cover Letter Guide
wraparound cover
In this workshop we'll cover skills like setting up and configuring a terrible howl or shriek.
At Last - The Cover Pages
Bob Dylan cover songs: a playlist project
The cover of a book is only skin deep
album cover game
the only anchor in an endless sea of low-frequency noise that covers your skin like oil
juveniles bound in illuminated board covers
Save early, save often
early
The early bird gets the worm
Release early, release often
Random Early Detection
Weighted Random Early Detection
early memories
as she suddenly realizes that the Heart that she has been praying to did not send somebody... but is, instead, here.
Early English Saints

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