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Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "I still remember her face, the day she died"

When you can almost recognize her face, but you can't remember her name
The portion of her face she allows me to see
She sat in virginal white, eyes closed, with only her face in rose
Her grief is still too young to behave itself, so she never lets it out
Because I still love her, because I know she still loves me.
We light candles on the day she died
She said her father died of cancer in the sixties
does she need to touch her own face to know?
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
I haven't seen her in a month. She is still beautiful.
When she woke up, her hands were still dreaming
I walked around all day with a pubic hair on my face
while she sleeps, i write myself into her life
She thought about giving him her heart
Someone set her face on fire and put it out with an anchor chain
She keeps her lies everywhere
a day to remember (user)
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
She was a committed romantic and an anarcha-feminist. This was hard for her because it meant she couldn't blow up beautiful buildings.
The day she lost the light
She is willing to attempt to retrieve the data. Go with her.
Everyone still remembers that time you threw up in grade one
she gave her heart to a falling star
I told her I could read her mind, but she didn't believe me. I could tell.
A salted moment of memories smudged across my face, and I’ve already forgiven her. It’s all over now
On Her Face
I remember, back in the day, when the Other Users list never exceeded 19
Wouldn't it be nice if I could remember her as a firework
She opened her eyes, looked at a world made entirely of white light
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
I still find strands of her hair in bed
In Which Minerva McGonagall Remembers Some Very Bad Days
A girl I know had her jaw wired shut, and she vomited.
She disappeared as if he had only dreamed her
Jessica, too tall but still lovely, was not sure she would or should drop the whale
She told me she remembers three things about me
She nicknamed her vagina "Crusty"
she lit her thumb on fire
we broke it in days, years later still broken
One day I wrote her name upon the strand
I met Death face to face, and I mocked her!
I remember your face, name, whiff of your skin's heat
I should be able to remember your face
Still the best 15 minutes of your day
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
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 ties regrets around her fingers like forget-me-knots
She was never mine. I always shared her.
wake up and find her still there
serene. She sips her tea
She wears her failed relationships like a shield
The day I died
if you fear spells, look away when she decides to share her hair with the wind.
The Day the Earth Stood Still
She Called in Her Soul to Come and See
You put a hand on her hip, she permits it.
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
She crashed her car trying to avoid a butterfly
She asked me if I loved her and I showed her the tattoo
I still remember the exact moment I understood sex
On she went. The woods were deep and still.
she can't remember what it's like to be found
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.
The day the FIAT died
The day the music died
It Was a Beautiful Day When Aunt Norma Died
she reads all day
the stars hold secrets the day can't remember
A single sunny day spent laughing in the face of impending disaster
I can see her face
Her picture in my wallet
dirty dove's thick cloud of smoke wrapping around her face
Her face could make the ocean ache
Make the Moon Cover her Blushing Face
The Day the Country Died
Wouldn't it be nice if I could remember her
I remember when it was me who made her toilet flush
She does not rustle but her flesh has the moonlit shade of a silver birch
she left her handwriting all over the calendar
I don't remember what her name was so let's call her Doris
I don't like her because she won't like me
She does not take her trip. She does not shout out loud.
At night, her eyes closed, she would
I don't tell her these things, and she doesn't ask
the way she wears her weary
She Will Have Her Way
And she, with her beautiful words and such a fire burning inside
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
She plugs her tears in the way you'd keep a dam from breaking
She asked me to copy my poem into her notebook
The day Hal died
you laugh and then you cry but you're still laughing but you miss her so damn much
when still her eyes held water
It's been an hour. I still love her.
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
She knows no truth except her own.
She asked me to read her a poem
I still find her feathers
She didn't wave goodbye so much as slightly raise her hand
Her still wet hair
She smokes. It wraps around her wrists and clings to her neck.
She always confused her greys with white.
I gave her my heart, she tore it apart, and who gives a fart.
why are you still carrying 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, the Last Leviathan. She, the Station Agent. Chin on her Palm, she Watches Every Departure.
remember, when they look right through you, you're still there
She remembers the stars
She still has my Borges book
At night, she still believes in him
Still she cried, and still the world pursues
She will remember your heart when men are fairy tales in books written by rabbits
I would have attempted to draw her if she had stayed that way.
why she makes her wishes at 7:07
It's only love: at the end of the day, there are still thunderstorms and sunsets
On the third day, she rose
She spent most of the day sleeping in my shirt pocket
April Trolls Day III - The Day the Music Died
The day my mom died
Everyone remembers last year's election day
My grandma died yesterday. Did she die?
every day she stands there, waiting. every day, she's gone when i get there.
To this day, I still keep my eyes open
With all the advances in technology it still takes 3 days to clear a cheque
Someone outlined against the sky, the sun too bright to see her face
Nice Legs, Shame About Her Face
His face when she fell
She doesn't know what he sees, but sometimes it makes his face beautiful
To Her Face
When she died
you never felt her hot blood on your face but, hey, who's keeping track
her face forms in summertime
Inches away from her face
Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt
Why if I ever meet Nancy Grace, I'll punch her in her yapping poodle-like face
I lived and I died, and the cats are still jumping through hoops
The day I punched myself in the face
I remember when it was me who made her skin flush
Her perception of how gorgeous she is will be evident in her lack of movement during sex
She flies with her own wings
She bruised her knee. This is how we met.
She found her bliss between the headphones, and pursed her lips.
She opened her eyes and spoke in a very normal voice, just as if she were sane
She calls him Sugarcane. He calls her Hurricane.
They walk around her like she is in danger of breaking
What's she gonna look like with a chimney on her?
Sometimes the apathy she saw made her want to curl up and cry
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 said, while hugging a bowl of turnips close to her bosom
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
I come home, she lifted up her wings. I guess that this must be the place.
I don't think she even knows that I make her smile
Veronica loves manipulating her vagina until she explodes
She always was devious in her beauty
He touched her once and she turned into a golden creature. He never touched her again.
She is so beautiful, I gave up Nihilism for her
Some nights, alone, he thinks of her, and some nights, alone, she thinks of him
I still love her (user)
She is the queen of accidental magic. Her used kleenexes, taken by the wind, become soulful ghosts.
She Will Have Her Way: The Songs Of Tim & Neil Finn
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
She gets caught in the little world beneath her sheets
she had already found her party
She who leaves men as flaming wrecks in the ditch on the side of the road in her wake, yea, even submarines
You can play with my ex-girlfriend, but treat her like the lady that she is.
Robert Lionel Fanthorpe fills up the word count in a science fiction novel: she brushed her teeth
The Day that ______ Died
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 practices her speech
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
i gave her my heart. she gave me a pen.
When she sleeps, is she not moving her legs aside for an unknown garrison?
She picked herself up, wiping away at her dignity
She is the sea. Above her, he is thunder.
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
I'll Never Remember the Day

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