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Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "She is safe because she is alone, there is no one left in the city who can harm her"

Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
There is likely no one left who remembers
is there no one who answers the call?
She knows no truth except her own.
on the occasion of the city having fallen to the forces of evil, and there being no hope left among the people
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
Because I still love her, because I know she still loves me.
I gave her my heart, she tore it apart, and who gives a fart.
for one who does no evil, there is no ill
Dry bones can harm no one
she left her handwriting all over the calendar
I don't like her because she won't like me
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.
There is no Goddess but Goddess and She is Your Goddess
Fast-talking career gal who thought she was one of the boys
Some nights, alone, he thinks of her, and some nights, alone, she thinks of him
No one learned anything, because there was nothing to learn.
She was a committed romantic and an anarcha-feminist. This was hard for her because it meant she couldn't blow up beautiful buildings.
For every rich man who tries to leave this world for a better one with his fancy tomb surrounded by mourners, there are many more who perish alone in the cold, forgotten by all but God.
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 emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
She asked me to copy my poem into her notebook
She nicknamed her vagina "Crusty"
No one can be totally logical
Things that no one told you...until now, because I'm telling you. Consider yourself fortunate
The game we play is life, and there are no rules save the ones we make
There are no three letter .coms left
She opened her eyes and spoke in a very normal voice, just as if she were sane
She practices her speech
I told her I could read her mind, but she didn't believe me. I could tell.
there was at that moment no one more rightful dead than that unknown and faceless man
I don't think she even knows that I make her smile
I come home, she lifted up her wings. I guess that this must be the place.
Textbooks you save because there's that one chapter in back you refer to every two years or so
Veronica loves manipulating her vagina until she explodes
The city. So many lights you can actually pretend one of them's shining on you.
She gets caught in the little world beneath her sheets
She left these broken things
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
finding no answer, she stepped closer
She's smarter than me but she's also more quiet, therefore she has no personality which makes me feel better
There is no man in the sky who cares what we eat and drink and fuck
No one will ever love Adam for his honesty. It's just not there
The vacuum she left
Her grief is still too young to behave itself, so she never lets it out
It happened to everyone else; she swore it wouldn't to her
She is so beautiful, I gave up Nihilism for her
At night, her eyes closed, she would
Sometimes the apathy she saw made her want to curl up and cry
She flies with her own wings
All right. She can fly circles around Uranus, but where's the bathroom?
There are no sleep in can
She Will Have Her Way: The Songs Of Tim & Neil Finn
she lit her thumb on fire
Spinning shapes like a song out of order. In the dark she can see fireflies.
No one can be unhappy with a fresh box of crayons
No one can know what you want unless you tell them
why she makes her wishes at 7:07
She said, while hugging a bowl of turnips close to her bosom
She left without saying goodbye
No one can be in two places at once
Milk left on the counter overnight turned sour. She had turned as well.
There's no point unless you make one
they can drop bombs and no one will get hurt
The stars were bright that night she left me forever
No One Gets Left Behind
This is the first time she's texted me since the morning she left.
I note that she is pretty, but we are off into the city, my werewolf friend and I
No One Here Is Ever Going to be President: Noders raise things in the city where things fall down
there is no weight that can bury us beneath the ghost of all my guilt
she can scream so loud you'll be looking for your ears on the floor
She sat in virginal white, eyes closed, with only her face in rose
She found her bliss between the headphones, and pursed her lips.
She dreamt she was a bulldozer, she dreamt she was alone in an empty field
She thought about giving him her heart
She wears her failed relationships like a shield
She plugs her tears in the way you'd keep a dam from breaking
Because, perhaps she was cold
The portion of her face she allows me to see
does she need to touch her own face to know?
I only leave the door open because I know that no one would dare to come in.
There's no reason to leave this poem alone
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
The words no one can find
She does not take her trip. She does not shout out loud.
She didn't wave goodbye so much as slightly raise her hand
She Will Have Her Way
She picked herself up, wiping away at her dignity
He dreamt he was a bulldozer, she dreamt she was alone in an empty bed
A girl I know had her jaw wired shut, and she vomited.
She, the Last Leviathan. She, the Station Agent. Chin on her Palm, she Watches Every Departure.
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
She always was devious in her beauty
She disappeared as if he had only dreamed her
she had already found her party
No one asks me if I'm a Satanist or anything because I take the precaution of wearing a predominantly flannel and hawaiian shirt-oriented wardrobe
She keeps her lies everywhere
I would have liked thunder when she left
She always confused her greys with white.
She left me on the boardwalk with my head held in my hands.
She walked by his desk and left a nickel
she left a little Java-shaped hole in my heart
No One Knows Who I Am
She asked me to read her a poem
there is nothing left, no joy, no wonder, just the office and cold soup
There are no left turn lanes
I hold you where no one else can go
you can give up, but there will always be those who do not
You mean she can
There is no one here to stop me from using this silence.
None of you are there. No one is there.
New Year's Eve, spent alone in a small, grey apartment, with no one to kiss at midnight
There was no one waiting for me...
She is not a girl, she is a woman. No, wait, she's a girl.
To One who has been Long in City Pent
In space, no one can hear you scream
No vocabulary for the dread she feels
There's a girl in New York City who calls herself the human trampoline
There is no "One", either
She asked me if I loved her and I showed her the tattoo
She bruised her knee. This is how we met.
She ties regrets around her fingers like forget-me-knots
I haven't seen her in a month. She is still beautiful.
Robert Lionel Fanthorpe fills up the word count in a science fiction novel: she brushed her teeth
She calls him Sugarcane. He calls her Hurricane.
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.
Her perception of how gorgeous she is will be evident in her lack of movement during sex
What's she gonna look like with a chimney on her?
They walk around her like she is in danger of breaking
The ones who are happy to survive are inside, partying. The ones who strive for evolution are outside, alone, seething with contempt, working through the night.
No one has ever died because they DIDN'T have a toothpick
She does not rustle but her flesh has the moonlit shade of a silver birch
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
I don't tell her these things, and she doesn't ask
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
Would you like to penetrate her shell, insinuating yourself among the pages of the books she is reading?
Just because she's nice to you doesn't mean she wants to fuck you
She had incongruity for breakfast because she felt like it
He touched her once and she turned into a golden creature. He never touched her again.
She is the queen of accidental magic. Her used kleenexes, taken by the wind, become soulful ghosts.
She stopped me in the city. A lost soul gambling on random encounters.
All he left her was alone
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
serene. She sips her tea
She was never mine. I always shared her.
Because she is unchanging, you are crazy
When she woke up, her hands were still dreaming
it is better to meet god alone than with one who might misunderstand
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
Shit, why am I the only one here who can perform the Heimlich maneuver?
if you fear spells, look away when she decides to share her hair with the wind.
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
And she, with her beautiful words and such a fire burning inside
the way she wears her weary
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
There can be only one
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
while she sleeps, i write myself into her life
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
When she sleeps, is she not moving her legs aside for an unknown garrison?
She opened her eyes, looked at a world made entirely of white light
She is the sea. Above her, he is thunder.
Dust mop so magic she can not believe how fun it is to clean up after people
She is willing to attempt to retrieve the data. Go with her.
You put a hand on her hip, she permits it.
i gave her my heart. she gave me a pen.
cities full of ravens, silent concrete echoing back while she sings
sandstorm firestorm windstorm she stands alone
Am I the only one who walks alone under moonlight without fear?
she gave her heart to a falling star
She Called in Her Soul to Come and See
She crashed her car trying to avoid a butterfly
She is glowing on fire. can she see that?
She smokes. It wraps around her wrists and clings to her neck.
No One Can Stop the Bobsled
Her sleeves ride up on her arms when she moves
In such bounty there can be no shortage
I would have attempted to draw her if she had stayed that way.
She said her father died of cancer in the sixties
Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt

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