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Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "She thanked me for having a crush on her, embarassingly"

She asked me if I loved her and I showed her the tattoo
I told her I could read her mind, but she didn't believe me. I could tell.
She asked me to copy my poem into her notebook
I don't like her because she won't like me
The portion of her face she allows me to see
i gave her my heart. she gave me a pen.
She asked me to read her a poem
Because I still love her, because I know she still loves me.
I remember when it was me who made her toilet flush
She pulled the "I love you" on me
She is so beautiful, I gave up Nihilism for her
Strangers have been, and continue to be, very kind to me. Thank you.
Don't Crush that Dwarf, Hand Me the Pliers
She only wants me for tech support
She was a committed romantic and an anarcha-feminist. This was hard for her because it meant she couldn't blow up beautiful buildings.
while she sleeps, i write myself into her life
She found her bliss between the headphones, and pursed her lips.
I'd like to thank God for allowing me
Tell him, she told me
She dumped me when she found out I'd been faking my Scottish accent
She always was devious in her beauty
Anna and her Mother: spinning me in circles
She ties regrets around her fingers like forget-me-knots
why she makes her wishes at 7:07
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
She sat in virginal white, eyes closed, with only her face in rose
There is nothing growing here, in the space between she and me
Thank you for not knowing me at all, Captain Shallow
She misses me
She said she loved me. The knife came down.
She taught me some moves, including stealthy exits.
She doesn't need me anymore
I would have tried, but Charlotte kept Charlotte in the world of Charlotte and she barely heard me
She does not rustle but her flesh has the moonlit shade of a silver birch
I remember when it was me who made her skin flush
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
She is the queen of accidental magic. Her used kleenexes, taken by the wind, become soulful ghosts.
Veronica loves manipulating her vagina until she explodes
I come home, she lifted up her wings. I guess that this must be the place.
She wears her failed relationships like a shield
She is the sea. Above her, he is thunder.
You put a hand on her hip, she permits it.
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
She, the Last Leviathan. She, the Station Agent. Chin on her Palm, she Watches Every Departure.
Her perception of how gorgeous she is will be evident in her lack of movement during sex
She is stupidly keeping herself a secret, when I know she has sparkly things to show me
She told me I looked like a Henry, and this is how she would know me
She handed me my first sharpened pencil.
I put my head down and hoped to God she wasn't looking at me
She only wants me for sex
She kissed me gently, just once, then walked away crying
She is still undoing me.
She cleaned up for me at least.
She left me on the boardwalk with my head held in my hands.
She saved me from Hylas' fate
Is it fair for him to love me when she craves his touch?
a grief so strong I thought it would crush me there
She told me I'd make a good Satan
Would you like to penetrate her shell, insinuating yourself among the pages of the books she is reading?
Her grief is still too young to behave itself, so she never lets it out
She thought about giving him her heart
I don't think she even knows that I make her smile
She plugs her tears in the way you'd keep a dam from breaking
My crush asked if he could kiss me
You can play with my ex-girlfriend, but treat her like the lady that she is.
Her photography captured little beautifuls and me
the way she wears her weary
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
She who leaves men as flaming wrecks in the ditch on the side of the road in her wake, yea, even submarines
serene. She sips her tea
I haven't seen her in a month. She is still beautiful.
if you fear spells, look away when she decides to share her hair with the wind.
She Will Have Her Way
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 is willing to attempt to retrieve the data. Go with her.
She picked herself up, wiping away at her dignity
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
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
She Called in Her Soul to Come and See
She knows no truth except her own.
She keeps her lies everywhere
her hate keeps me warm. her shadows keep me guessing.
I gave her my heart, she tore it apart, and who gives a fart.
She Fucks Me
Two condoms, she makes me wear
She who makes the Moon the Moon and, whenever she is full, sets the dogs to howling all night long, and me with them.
Thanks for telling me I am suicidal
She approached me with some vague line
The stars were bright that night she left me forever
She loves me, she loves me not
She wakes me up by tickling my feet
She kills me
She may be pretty and have more money than me but she doesn't write songs about you.
she spent the night gingerly peeling me off the moon.
She was an intellectual prostitute, seducing me with profound truisms
She loved me for my maths
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
She was watching me and I didn’t know it.
She loved me for my brains not my body. It's what zombies do.
She looks at me and she laughs
she seems bored with me after all this time
she looked at me then whispered, we are all made of stardust
Calling her number and having a male voice answer
she, he, and me
She tells me she drives a truck.
She might not need me. But then again she might.
She Blinded Me With Science
She asked me to stop dreaming of death
She's smarter than me but she's also more quiet, therefore she has no personality which makes me feel better
I said I was sorry. Then she looked at me.
She said she loved me
She flies with her own wings
The time my father caught me having sex
She bruised her knee. This is how we met.
Bathe her and bring her to me
She said, while hugging a bowl of turnips close to her bosom
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 calls him Sugarcane. He calls her Hurricane.
They walk around her like she is in danger of breaking
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
What's she gonna look like with a chimney on her?
She opened her eyes and spoke in a very normal voice, just as if she were sane
It happened to everyone else; she swore it wouldn't to her
her arms around me
Everyone except me is having a picnic on the moon
I don't tell her these things, and she doesn't ask
Sometimes the apathy she saw made her want to curl up and cry
She was never mine. I always shared her.
He touched her once and she turned into a golden creature. He never touched her again.
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
she left her handwriting all over the calendar
She does not take her trip. She does not shout out loud.
At night, her eyes closed, she would
does she need to touch her own face to know?
Some nights, alone, he thinks of her, and some nights, alone, she thinks of him
She opened her eyes, looked at a world made entirely of white light
Want (the state of not having her)
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
When she woke up, her hands were still dreaming
Robert Lionel Fanthorpe fills up the word count in a science fiction novel: she brushed her teeth
She gets caught in the little world beneath her sheets
When she sleeps, is she not moving her legs aside for an unknown garrison?
She didn't wave goodbye so much as slightly raise her hand
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
And she, with her beautiful words and such a fire burning inside
let her take me, feed on me, devour me
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
Looking like a pirate is fun but only having one eye annoys me
She practices her speech
she lit her thumb on fire
Don't tell me about her
Now she's in my doorway, accusing me with her soft breasts and long legs, strong hips.
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
She Will Have Her Way: The Songs Of Tim & Neil Finn
A girl I know had her jaw wired shut, and she vomited.
She disappeared as if he had only dreamed her
She said her father died of cancer in the sixties
I would have attempted to draw her if she had stayed that way.
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 smokes. It wraps around her wrists and clings to her neck.
She nicknamed her vagina "Crusty"
I asked her not to forget me
she had already found her party
Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt
She just looks at me
She Loves Me
She writes notes to me, to keep me in check
She crashed her car trying to avoid a butterfly
She told me to say that
That one makes me scream, she said
she gave her heart to a falling star
She always confused her greys with white.
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

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