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Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "She tapped his head like she was knocking on a door that wouldn’t open"

All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
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.
When she was new, she rolled around the sky like a black umbrella blown by the wind
For a lawyer she was surprisingly like a child. Sometimes.
She was a Surrealist Woman, She was like a Figure in a Dream
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.
He stretched out his arms but she was not there
Doors and windows open, she screams "COME ON, MOTHERFUCKER" at the hurricane
When that cow would walk it was like she was dancing
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 must be what cocaine is like
She was coming out as he was going in.
I said I was sorry. Then she looked at me.
I'm sorry I was speeding, officer, but I really have to get to the hospital
She wears her failed relationships like a shield
"He was a terrible man," she sobbed, between bites of alimony
She couldn't imagine that he liked dancing
Outside the train station she was the only person wearing an Orange raincoat and a look of surprise
She doesn't know what he sees, but sometimes it makes his face beautiful
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 left me on the boardwalk with my head held in my hands.
She tastes like gingerbread, too.
She is like a kaleidoscope, a strange attractor, a superstition
She felt like the word 'shatter'
She hit me like thunder, and I had to lie down until I could breathe again
The Abridged Edition: She was to one side, he was to the other, an untested bridge between them
She dreamt she was a bulldozer, she dreamt she was alone in an empty field
She was pain and pleasure all at once, wrapped up in needles and Ramones T-shirts
someday, when she will think back upon the time when she was as yet undishonored
And when she came back she was nobody's wife
Existentialism is that girlfriend who cheated on you. Postmodernism is who she was with.
piano outside in the snow. and she was spinning
Besides the part where she was the only one
I don't like her because she won't like me
Jessica, too tall but still lovely, was not sure she would or should drop the whale
she made them, like fire, expansible over all space
My next door neighbor has human heads in his freezer
She Came and Went Like Wind (A Selkie Story)
She doesn't like you
She just stares at us like we're crazy
She is lobbing rainbows at me from across the room and I am swallowing them like fear.
She was buttery. She was asking for it. She was delicious. Let's all give in.
She always was all tea and oranges that came all the way from China
I was throwing around useless proverbs when all she needed was to be held and told that she was beautiful
The sound was starting to get stuck in my head like "It's a Small World"
What the hell was she thinking?
She was the seed of a strange tomorrow
She is and was
She was so tall, and I was so in love
She was an intellectual prostitute, seducing me with profound truisms
I was tired. It was late. She was Russian.
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
She was watching me and I didn’t know it.
She moved so easily all I could think of was sunlight
The girl didn't know if she was loved until he said yes.
Is it fair for him to love me when she craves his touch?
She was feminine in the most displaced sense I had ever seen, a known quality refracted through stained glass windows.
She didn't know what outside was anymore.
They walk around her like she is in danger of breaking
She doesn't look like Mother anymore
What's she gonna look like with a chimney on her?
She was very beautiful. Y'know?
Spinning shapes like a song out of order. In the dark she can see fireflies.
she can't remember what it's like to be found
She had eyes like the Blue Screen of Death
She wore a bit more makeup than he generally liked
She said I dreamed like dead men
She had incongruity for breakfast because she felt like it
She Liked Horses, and Flowers That Smell Pink
She writes like the wind moves
she likes to dance on the edge. it's all she's known and she won't change now
She could run a spiel like nobody's business. She could sell the world and make you wish for more.
She tasted like whiskey and blood and cemetery dirt.
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
These dead open their bodies to the living like a door
She was so pleased to learn that she was right
She was thinking of a boy in California who had a couch and a job
It happened to everyone else; she swore it wouldn't to her
I put my head down and hoped to God she wasn't looking at me
When she was bad
He dreamt he was a bulldozer, she dreamt she was alone in an empty bed
She was never mine. I always shared her.
She was cilantro, jalapeño, habanero. She was the hot plate you must not touch.
She always was devious in her beauty
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
To a girl who thought she was moving away
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
The flowers smiled, but she was gone
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
The House on the Island Where She Was Born
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
she was just the dry smell of gasoline
She had become a mutton for punishment and he was a wolf
She walked by his desk and left a nickel
She was the cutest necromancer I ever did see
Fast-talking career gal who thought she was one of the boys
His face when she fell
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
She probably thought your first language was English; your real first language was Joyce
She knew what she was doing
she is his sounding board
He was an ant on an ill-defined mission. She was the trapdoor spider of love.
Because, perhaps she was cold
She was too beautiful to be human
She Was 18, It Was Summer
She was cilantro, jalepeno, habanero. She was the hot plate you must not touch.
She told me she wouldn't
The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne
some of the pain that she endures would bring a strong man to his knees
she was waylaid by an octopus
because his heart was heavy, closing, like a tired eyelid
She ties regrets around her fingers like forget-me-knots
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
Would you like to penetrate her shell, insinuating yourself among the pages of the books she is reading?
she was once a stealthy ghostship in the fog, now she shines wherever she walks
She came through the glass door, untouched by the storm that raged outside.
I would have liked thunder when she left
You can play with my ex-girlfriend, but treat her like the lady that she is.
She was free
She was locked in time
She had fingernails that shined like justice
she gave herself that holocaust haircut. cinnamon colored clippings cover the motel bedspread like sprinkles.
She told me I looked like a Henry, and this is how she would know me
She is like an onion
She was steady
That was what her hunger was like: mesmerizing, directed, floating like a public secret just under the cloud cover.
seizing on a Nugget of Truth and wielding it like it was a club
I don't remember what life was like when I was seven. I like the taste of air. What should I do?
He was like the bottle of Champagne Krug
open door policy
Sex and death have both spat me out like spoiled milk for the same reason. I was not afraid.
Most adults forget what it was like to be a child once they hit a certain age
What if architecture was like web design?
Darth Everything meets Death who has just knocked on his front door
How to Open a Door
Why it's rude to open a door for a woman
her ardent eyebrows are charcoal scimitars taut above eyes that breeze like open windows
32 Reasons Andrew Deserves His Door
My skin felt like I was falling
like nothing ever was
Open Door
I was raised on red pepper and blood. I am so hot if you strike me I will light like a match.
If I was beautiful like you
Mr. Lunch liked to chase birds. In fact, he was a professional.
Looks like 1984 was only n years off
consulting is kind of like an open relationship
I guessed I wouldn't land on all fours, like a cat
Save keys to open doors
Open the pod bay door, HAL
I felt I was part of something, like a voice in a crowd or an island in a sea
Your mother wouldn't like it
Like, Love, Lust, and the Open Halls of the Soul
Jesus was a reactionary reformer, just like Martin Luther in later years.
That week with her was like drinking bubbles
With him it was always like
Morning was like an ex-wife's bruises
The Head on the Door
it wouldn't be so bad if people like you would have become ghosts too
The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door.
I was expecting it to hurt like a fuck
Shimmer over bridges like the river was a dream
A knock there was upon the door
Like most of my dreams, that one was licensed for commercial use
Don't misunderstand this one, it was like palm against palm through a window
like a flower with a fool's face I open myself
It wasn't like I was sleeping anyway
Revolving doors that only open when someone exits
I was trying to show him my insides, you know. I like to share.
I would open a door for you
Two of them. Hovering there like bloated gas giants in the heavens. Good God, it was beautiful.
What seemed like tenderness was really weakness
Once when I got like this I thought I was building a boat

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