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Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "She moved here from Germany in fifth grade, and she was a foot taller than me, and I was undone."

She always was all tea and oranges that came all the way from China
I said I was sorry. Then she looked at me.
She moved so easily all I could think of was sunlight
She was an intellectual prostitute, seducing me with profound truisms
She was watching me and I didn’t know it.
I'm sorry I was speeding, officer, but I really have to get to the hospital
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
She dreamt she was a bulldozer, she dreamt she was alone in an empty field
The House on the Island Where She Was Born
I was tired. It was late. She was Russian.
When she was bad
Besides the part where she was the only one
She was never mine. I always shared her.
When that cow would walk it was like she was dancing
She was steady
She was pain and pleasure all at once, wrapped up in needles and Ramones T-shirts
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
Outside the train station she was the only person wearing an Orange raincoat and a look of surprise
He was an ant on an ill-defined mission. She was the trapdoor spider of love.
She didn't know what outside was anymore.
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
I was throwing around useless proverbs when all she needed was to be held and told that she was beautiful
She saved me from Hylas' fate
She was cilantro, jalapeño, habanero. She was the hot plate you must not touch.
She was thinking of a boy in California who had a couch and a job
She was very beautiful. Y'know?
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
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.
She always was devious in her beauty
The Abridged Edition: She was to one side, he was to the other, an untested bridge between them
She was free
And when she came back she was nobody's wife
She was so tall, and I was so in love
She Was 18, It Was Summer
She is and was
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
What the hell was she thinking?
She was feminine in the most displaced sense I had ever seen, a known quality refracted through stained glass windows.
She's smarter than me but she's also more quiet, therefore she has no personality which makes me feel better
For a lawyer she was surprisingly like a child. Sometimes.
She was buttery. She was asking for it. She was delicious. Let's all give in.
The one thing I wanted more than anything was for someone, just once, to tell me they don't know what they'd do without me
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
There is nothing growing here, in the space between she and me
Fast-talking career gal who thought she was one of the boys
"He was a terrible man," she sobbed, between bites of alimony
I was once smaller than a jellybean, but now look at me - I am macroscopic!
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 was locked in time
Jessica, too tall but still lovely, was not sure she would or should drop the whale
The flowers smiled, but she was gone
He dreamt he was a bulldozer, she dreamt she was alone in an empty bed
When she was new, she rolled around the sky like a black umbrella blown by the wind
She may be pretty and have more money than me but she doesn't write songs about you.
She was the seed of a strange tomorrow
She was a Surrealist Woman, She was like a Figure in a Dream
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
She had become a mutton for punishment and he was a wolf
someday, when she will think back upon the time when she was as yet undishonored
Existentialism is that girlfriend who cheated on you. Postmodernism is who she was with.
She probably thought your first language was English; your real first language was Joyce
She was so pleased to learn that she was right
Because, perhaps she was cold
The girl didn't know if she was loved until he said yes.
She was too beautiful to be human
She was like a candle in the wind: unreliable
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
I was less than one hundred footsteps away from you I suppose
she was just the dry smell of gasoline
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
piano outside in the snow. and she was spinning
To a girl who thought she was moving away
She was the cutest necromancer I ever did see
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
He stretched out his arms but she was not there
She was coming out as he was going in.
she was once a stealthy ghostship in the fog, now she shines wherever she walks
She didn't write like Emily Dickinson, but she did live in a house overlooking a cemetery, and I guess he thought that was important.
She taught me some moves, including stealthy exits.
She is lobbing rainbows at me from across the room and I am swallowing them like fear.
She was cilantro, jalepeno, habanero. She was the hot plate you must not touch.
she was waylaid by an octopus
She knew what she was doing
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
No one older than twenty-five was stupid enough to take a job here.
The rock under my foot that told me I was real when I was an adult
one was giving me the eye but nothing came of it
Just standing there, wearing my boxers, in my driveway. I was watching the stormfront. You were watching me.
You knew I was a rattlesnake when you picked me up
She dumped me when she found out I'd been faking my Scottish accent
It wasn't so much a trip down memory lane as it was me carjacking someone's memorymobile and speeding off down the freeway, but I digress.
This is the first time she's texted me since the morning she left.
By evening I will have returned all traces that I was ever here
She might not need me. But then again she might.
She looks at me and she laughs
At Least It Was Here
Would you love me if I was a worm
By morning I will have erased all traces that I was ever here
That one makes me scream, she said
I Hear it was Charged Against Me
I was me before being me was cool.
I was pretty sure that wasn't how slasher films were supposed to end, but you won't see me complaining.
She told me she wouldn't
Listen to me, because I am in the soapbox. This is the voice of the soapbox. I am calling to you. Do you hear the sounds of my soaply siren song? My syntactically sweet strumming along to sequential sequestrations of symmetrically snakey st
Because I still love her, because I know she still loves me.
Democracy assassinated the family that was here
It was always hot here
She writes like the wind moves
The cactus that told me my mom was asleep
I remember when it was me who made her toilet flush
She writes notes to me, to keep me in check
She approached me with some vague line
She told me I'd make a good Satan
So I was balls deep in the guy's ass that night when he turns to me and asks for a kiss. Damn. What a fag.
She told me to say that
She said she loved me
I was a homeless bum
BROOKS WAS HERE
She tries to hold the wind, stop it from crying
She tells me she drives a truck.
She Blinded Me With Science
I used to think of sobriety as a purgatory, and that to be under the influence of drugs was relief from it. Now that I'm older I believe the opposite to be true.
Here were the words I was waiting for, without the part I wanted
Here lies one whose name was writ in water
She Speaks to Me
She stopped me in the city. A lost soul gambling on random encounters.
She told me she remembers three things about me
Sex and death have both spat me out like spoiled milk for the same reason. I was not afraid.
texting, she tells me anarchy will remain an important ideology
My mother loves me. She uses the good sandwich bags.
When someone was willing to drown with me, I really didn't want to drown anymore
some say he was never here at all
the space was filled with love like light and that made me shine as well
She Moved Through The Fair
She Gave Sweet Love To Me
better off with him than here with me
Death was a part of me then, too.
I remember when it was me who made her skin flush
She misses me
She pulled the "I love you" on me
She Loves Me
I don't like her because she won't like me
She asked me to copy my poem into her notebook
She just looks at me
She kissed me gently, just once, then walked away crying
I was discovered by scientists, what will they call me?
I was the liar; here is the truth
collecting on old debts from when mom was a loan shark
I was shaking, but not from the cold
everyone who ever told me i was pretty was lying.
There is no one here to stop me from using this silence.
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
This book was stolen from the Harvard College Library. It was later recovered. The thief was sentenced to two years at hard labor.
She asked me to read her a poem
born under candlelight just from the edge of a knife, was it a life? or was it a light at all?
My Mother She Killed Me, My Father He Ate Me
sifting sand to find fading past in smooth stones, sorrow was here
that's where she lost me as I began imagining my family amongst blood-dripped hedges
And then night was here, after a day of measured breathing, and I could forget about breathing because the waiting was done
She asked me if I loved her and I showed her the tattoo
I'm wishing Jesus was here again
Kilroy was here
She asked me to stop dreaming of death
Why is she really here?
bringing me back to when less was worth more
I Wish My Brother George Was Here
She hit me like thunder, and I had to lie down until I could breathe again
She is all I am listening to here
An ocean away and here he was, seeping into her

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