Findings:

Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "where she was meant to be, where she belonged"

The House on the Island Where She Was Born
Besides the part where she was the only one
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
We are the servants of our muse, and we toil where she commands
I was throwing around useless proverbs when all she needed was to be held and told that she was beautiful
She was too beautiful to be human
All right. She can fly circles around Uranus, but where's the bathroom?
Where's the kaboom?
She sits where she pleases
To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring - it was peace.
She was a committed romantic and an anarcha-feminist. This was hard for her because it meant she couldn't blow up beautiful buildings.
that's where she lost me as I began imagining my family amongst blood-dripped hedges
She said the dance is a prayer. A prayer to toss into the tide all the weight of oblivion and humiliation. This is not a dance for one, fool - where are you?
She was cilantro, jalepeno, habanero. She was the hot plate you must not touch.
It will be a love story ... for she will be my heroine for all time
She tells stories as if she knows what the ending will be.
She moved so easily all I could think of was sunlight
Each one was the scene where you hold your breath
If the path be beautiful, let us not ask where it leads
a pile of dust where a fun girl used to be
To a girl who thought she was moving away
No matter where I was, whisps of you haunted my thoughts
Outside the train station she was the only person wearing an Orange raincoat and a look of surprise
Where Once Life Was
The flowers smiled, but she was gone
I will go. I shall go. I'll see where the end may be.
She always was devious in her beauty
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
throw away words we catch in cages where our hearts should be
Finding air where matter once was
"He was a terrible man," she sobbed, between bites of alimony
Upon the hills where day was done
He dreamt he was a bulldozer, she dreamt she was alone in an empty bed
She was buttery. She was asking for it. She was delicious. Let's all give in.
Readers Be Where? (e2poll)
I'm sorry I was speeding, officer, but I really have to get to the hospital
She was the seed of a strange tomorrow
The Wild West Is Where I Want To Be
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
She Had to Be Sure
in a world where the bar keeps seeming to be lower, where stupidity has got a foothold, there is room for excellence and uncompromising vision
I said I was sorry. Then she looked at me.
Get back to where you once belonged
She was like a candle in the wind: unreliable
She was feminine in the most displaced sense I had ever seen, a known quality refracted through stained glass windows.
My father's secret life was never meant to be secret
She was watching me and I didn’t know it.
A tentative laugh, she expected to be interrupted
When that cow would walk it was like she was dancing
A conversation where none was invited
Where was her angel all those times the sky clouded over
I didn't want to know where I was conceived
She knew what she was doing
She was locked in time
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 come home, she lifted up her wings. I guess that this must be the place.
Be careful where you put your laptop
For a lawyer she was surprisingly like a child. Sometimes.
When she was new, she rolled around the sky like a black umbrella blown by the wind
Her perception of how gorgeous she is will be evident in her lack of movement during sex
She always was all tea and oranges that came all the way from China
she couldn’t go and be beautiful
Where we're headed, you'll be looking backwards
All the things she had at one point wanted to be
She may be pretty and have more money than me but she doesn't write songs about you.
Each thing she learned became part of herself, to be used over and over in new adventures
She was pain and pleasure all at once, wrapped up in needles and Ramones T-shirts
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
She had become a mutton for punishment and he was a wolf
she was just the dry smell of gasoline
She was cilantro, jalapeño, habanero. She was the hot plate you must not touch.
this is where we all came to be
The girl didn't know if she was loved until he said yes.
Because, perhaps she was cold
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
I was tired. It was late. She was Russian.
Where be ye going, you Devon maid?
Where were you when Kennedy was shot?
Where I Was
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.
Where the floodwaters went after the flood was over
she was once a stealthy ghostship in the fog, now she shines wherever she walks
where was your heart when we needed it most?
Where was that stooped and mealy-coloured old man I used to call poppa when the merry-go-round broke down?
Where was that stooped and mealy-colored old man I used to call poppa when the merry-go-round broke down?
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
She was steady
She didn't know what outside was anymore.
He stretched out his arms but she was not there
Jessica, too tall but still lovely, was not sure she would or should drop the whale
piano outside in the snow. and she was spinning
She dreamt she was a bulldozer, she dreamt she was alone in an empty field
No One Here Is Ever Going to be President: Noders raise things in the city where things fall down
She was so pleased to learn that she was right
If you meet a strange, confident woman, she may well be a witch
She must be what cocaine is like
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
If she were an insect, she'd be a moth in search of a flame
She was thinking of a boy in California who had a couch and a job
There is a space between your shoulders where your wings used to be
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
When she was bad
The Abridged Edition: She was to one side, he was to the other, an untested bridge between them
the space where you are needs your help to be empty again
Where have my wings gone? They are hidden, embarrassed to be seen.
She was never mine. I always shared her.
she can't remember what it's like to be found
she can scream so loud you'll be looking for your ears on the floor
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
She was an intellectual prostitute, seducing me with profound truisms
She could be a businesswoman
She was a Surrealist Woman, She was like a Figure in a Dream
She teaches a night class. Psychology 100, to be precise.
Where would America be without Canada?
She probably thought your first language was English; your real first language was Joyce
Existentialism is that girlfriend who cheated on you. Postmodernism is who she was with.
Once upon a time, I imagined she would be a river
It must be morning when she dreams.
When she shouts BE QUIET THE NEIGHBORS WILL HEAR IF YOU'RE NOT QUIET
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
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.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.
a garden where a girl used to be 
She is and was
will my heart be there, where I left it so long ago?
someday, when she will think back upon the time when she was as yet undishonored
There's a sign on the wall. But she wants to be sure. Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings.
Where the Bridge Used to Be
Hell isn't not knowing where to belong. Hell is not knowing how.
He was an ant on an ill-defined mission. She was the trapdoor spider of love.
And when she came back she was nobody's wife
she was waylaid by an octopus
She was the cutest necromancer I ever did see
She was free
Fast-talking career gal who thought she was one of the boys
She was coming out as he was going in.
She was so tall, and I was so in love
I'd rather be lost than be where you call home
She was very beautiful. Y'know?
Where there was fire I brought the gasoline
November 4, 1995
She Was 18, It Was Summer
There was a land where lived no violets
Surah 60 She that is to be Examined
Finding the origin of a Hotmail message
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.
What the hell was she thinking?
She said she loved me
she being Brand
what she kisses twice
I don't like her because she won't like me
If she really wanted to fit in, she'd get a smaller dog.
She thought about giving him her heart
She writes notes to me, to keep me in check
And then, she expressed frustration with life in general
The picture she drew in my notebook
How clear she shines
She dumped me when she found out I'd been faking my Scottish accent
She found her bliss between the headphones, and pursed her lips.
She has trouble acting normal
She Came In Through The Bathroom Window
Where All the Birds Sit
Is she really going out with him?
I haven't seen her in a month. She is still beautiful.
She Is Suffering
Any woman who thinks she is pro-life should ask herself
A chorus of phones each time she calls
She ties regrets around her fingers like forget-me-knots
She said, while hugging a bowl of turnips close to her bosom
This child has talent. She needs a better box of paints.
She just sat there
Who am I to critique that which she is?
Jennifer, is she your friend?
The vacuum she left
She told me I'd make a good Satan
She asked me to copy my poem into her notebook

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