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Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "In a sour, bitter instant I remind myself that it won't work. That it never worked. We were miserable, she probably moreso than me because she, in her lucid moments, had to watch me spill my life on the altar of my love for her."

I don't like her because she won't like me
Because I still love her, because I know she still loves me.
She asked me if I loved her and I showed her the tattoo
i gave her my heart. she gave me a pen.
She asked me to copy my poem into her notebook
I told her I could read her mind, but she didn't believe me. I could tell.
while she sleeps, i write myself into her life
She asked me to read her a poem
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
The portion of her face she allows me to see
The stars were bright that night she left me forever
She loves me, she loves me not
A girl I know had her jaw wired shut, and she vomited.
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 disappeared as if he had only dreamed her
But if life were only moments, then you'd never know you had one
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
she had already found her party
She, the Last Leviathan. She, the Station Agent. Chin on her Palm, she Watches Every Departure.
She was a committed romantic and an anarcha-feminist. This was hard for her because it meant she couldn't blow up beautiful buildings.
Her grief is still too young to behave itself, so she never lets it out
She loved me for my maths
She was never mine. I always shared her.
She pulled the "I love you" on me
She loved me for my brains not my body. It's what zombies do.
I would have attempted to draw her if she had stayed that way.
My mother loves me. She uses the good sandwich bags.
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
She hit me like thunder, and I had to lie down until I could breathe again
She may be pretty and have more money than me but she doesn't write songs about you.
She's smarter than me but she's also more quiet, therefore she has no personality which makes me feel better
She opened her eyes and spoke in a very normal voice, just as if she were sane
When she woke up, her hands were still dreaming
Is it fair for him to love me when she craves his touch?
She said she loved me
She Loves Me
She Gave Sweet Love To Me
She said she loved me. The knife came down.
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
You were never going to become more than this to me
He touched her once and she turned into a golden creature. He never touched her again.
Veronica loves manipulating her vagina until she explodes
I said I was sorry. Then she looked at me.
Sometimes the apathy she saw made her want to curl up and cry
She cleaned up for me at least.
She knows no truth except her own.
Loophole Abusing a Magic Cauldron, Chapter 14: Love Never Leave Me
I haven't seen her in a month. She is still beautiful.
She told me I looked like a Henry, and this is how she would know me
She is the sea. Above her, he is thunder.
Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt
Milk left on the counter overnight turned sour. She had turned as well.
She crashed her car trying to avoid a butterfly
She kissed me gently, just once, then walked away crying
She is willing to attempt to retrieve the data. Go with her.
I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they've always worked for me
She told me to say that
She only wants me for sex
Her photography captured little beautifuls and me
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 picked herself up, wiping away at her dignity
does she need to touch her own face to know?
They walk around her like she is in danger of breaking
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.
radios work better when closer to her skin
I never stopped watching myself reflected in her eyes
Her perception of how gorgeous she is will be evident in her lack of movement during sex
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
she left her handwriting all over the calendar
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
She Fucks Me
Sometimes I think you love that doomsday machine more than you love me.
She dumped me when she found out I'd been faking my Scottish accent
she seems bored with me after all this time
why she makes her wishes at 7:07
She was an intellectual prostitute, seducing me with profound truisms
she spent the night gingerly peeling me off the moon.
if you fear spells, look away when she decides to share her hair with the wind.
She opened her eyes, looked at a world made entirely of white light
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
She Blinded Me With Science
her arms around me
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
She looks at me and she laughs
When she sleeps, is she not moving her legs aside for an unknown garrison?
let her take me, feed on me, devour me
I put my head down and hoped to God she wasn't looking at me
I remember when it was me who made her skin flush
She Called in Her Soul to Come and See
She smokes. It wraps around her wrists and clings to her neck.
She keeps her lies everywhere
She wears her failed relationships like a shield
She sat in virginal white, eyes closed, with only her face in rose
she gave her heart to a falling star
She does not rustle but her flesh has the moonlit shade of a silver birch
She is so beautiful, I gave up Nihilism for 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
serene. She sips her tea
You can play with my ex-girlfriend, but treat her like the lady that she is.
She does not take her trip. She does not shout out loud.
That one makes me scream, she said
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
She thought about giving him her heart
And she, with her beautiful words and such a fire burning inside
She gets caught in the little world beneath her sheets
There is nothing growing here, in the space between she and me
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
She was watching me and I didn’t know it.
Two condoms, she makes me wear
her hate keeps me warm. her shadows keep me guessing.
She Will Have Her Way: The Songs Of Tim & Neil Finn
Tell him, she told me
She Will Have Her Way
She left me on the boardwalk with my head held in my hands.
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
She doesn't need me anymore
she looked at me then whispered, we are all made of stardust
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
You put a hand on her hip, she permits it.
She didn't wave goodbye so much as slightly raise her hand
She is still undoing me.
Don't tell me about her
She practices her speech
She saved me from Hylas' fate
Robert Lionel Fanthorpe fills up the word count in a science fiction novel: she brushed her teeth
At night, her eyes closed, she would
A really good sandwich that ideath could make to take to work with her
Now she's in my doorway, accusing me with her soft breasts and long legs, strong hips.
she, he, and me
I would have tried, but Charlotte kept Charlotte in the world of Charlotte and she barely heard me
She ties regrets around her fingers like forget-me-knots
A man who never sees a pretty girl without loving her a little
She said her father died of cancer in the sixties
She bruised her knee. This is how we met.
Bathe her and bring her to me
She found her bliss between the headphones, and pursed her lips.
She nicknamed her vagina "Crusty"
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.
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
She always confused her greys with white.
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
I asked her not to forget me
She flies with her own wings
She calls him Sugarcane. He calls her Hurricane.
She had incongruity for breakfast because she felt like it
What's she gonna look like with a chimney on her?
I was not made for love songs, and love songs will never be made for me.
She had never kissed someone so old.
I don't tell her these things, and she doesn't ask
I come home, she lifted up her wings. I guess that this must be the place.
She misses me
Thou hast made me, and shall thy work decay?
She approached me with some vague line
Ayn Rand just doesn't work for me
I don't think she even knows that I make her smile
I'm so sorry my brain works that way
She who makes the Moon the Moon and, whenever she is full, sets the dogs to howling all night long, and me with them.
I gave her my heart, she tore it apart, and who gives a fart.
She just looks at me
She told me I'd make a good Satan
She writes notes to me, to keep me in check
She plugs her tears in the way you'd keep a dam from breaking
She said, while hugging a bowl of turnips close to her bosom
Anna and her Mother: spinning me in circles
Honey, if you love me won't you please please smile?
she lit her thumb on fire
the way she wears her weary
She only wants me for tech support
She is the queen of accidental magic. Her used kleenexes, taken by the wind, become soulful ghosts.
Some nights, alone, he thinks of her, and some nights, alone, she thinks of him
She who leaves men as flaming wrecks in the ditch on the side of the road in her wake, yea, even submarines
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
She wakes me up by tickling my feet
She kills me
She always was devious in her beauty
She handed me my first sharpened pencil.
I remember when it was me who made her toilet flush

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