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Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "She Lives (In a Time of Her Own)"

My own personal time capsule of lives
Every time that I tell her that I love her, I can taste my own hypocrisy
does she need to touch her own face to know?
She flies with her own wings
She knows no truth except her own.
She practices her speech
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
Every single day is its own apocalypse. Every time we fall asleep is an extinction.
He touched her once and she turned into a golden creature. He never touched her again.
I would have attempted to draw her if she had stayed that way.
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
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.
When the Ram and the Pig Went to the Forest to Live on Their Own
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
She Will Have Her Way: The Songs Of Tim & Neil Finn
You can play with my ex-girlfriend, but treat her like the lady that she is.
I like it when I dream of her. It's the only time we get to talk.
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 asked me if I loved her and I showed her the tattoo
The first time I saw her
someday, when she will think back upon the time when she was as yet undishonored
She was locked in time
geniuses in our own time
when my time is in the past, i hope my heart lays in the grass, and feeds another one who lives like it's all just begun
Where was her angel all those times the sky clouded over
Sometimes the apathy she saw made her want to curl up and cry
the way she wears her weary
I told her I could read her mind, but she didn't believe me. I could tell.
why she makes her wishes at 7:07
She opened her eyes, looked at a world made entirely of white light
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
A girl I know had her jaw wired shut, and she vomited.
Because I still love her, because I know she still loves me.
She, the Last Leviathan. She, the Station Agent. Chin on her Palm, she Watches Every Departure.
I gave her my heart, she tore it apart, and who gives a fart.
she gave her heart to a falling star
She is willing to attempt to retrieve the data. Go with her.
I don't tell her these things, and she doesn't ask
I just realized that I will not live to see the invention of time machines
You shine in the eyes of lovers we complicate, accidentally, lending our own critiques and eyebrows to time
Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt
It will be a love story ... for she will be my heroine for all time
Each time she tells you this, she is lying.
It's never really the past; it's always a version of your own time.
she lives in the woods in a cabin
Robert Lionel Fanthorpe fills up the word count in a science fiction novel: she brushed her teeth
She could not live with or without him
she left her handwriting all over the calendar
Looking back from time to time, her tears falling fast
She plugs her tears in the way you'd keep a dam from breaking
She does not take her trip. She does not shout out loud.
At night, her eyes closed, she would
I don't think she even knows that I make her smile
She is so beautiful, I gave up Nihilism for her
She gets caught in the little world beneath her sheets
she had already found her party
She is the queen of accidental magic. Her used kleenexes, taken by the wind, become soulful ghosts.
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
A Leela of Her Own
Young Virgin Auto-Sodomized by Her Own Chastity
She is the sea. Above her, he is thunder.
She said, while hugging a bowl of turnips close to her bosom
I haven't seen her in a month. She is still beautiful.
She asked me to read her a poem
She Called in Her Soul to Come and See
You put a hand on her hip, she permits it.
She keeps her lies everywhere
She crashed her car trying to avoid a butterfly
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
She thought about giving him her heart
She always confused her greys with white.
She said her father died of cancer in the sixties
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
When she woke up, her hands were still dreaming
She ties regrets around her fingers like forget-me-knots
every horse can be tamed by someone. but they don't always live at the same time.
Hot pursuit
The Wheel of Time has collapsed under the weight of its own bloated corpse
I lived in interesting times, came to the attention of those in power, and found what I was looking for.
I am attracted to gay men, famous actors, and men who live in different time zones or are already taken. It's safer that way.
Another bed she does not own
She really does want to clap along, but at the same time she doesn't want to let the bird get out.
This is the first time she's texted me since the morning she left.
she seems bored with me after all this time
She asked me to copy my poem into her notebook
A chorus of phones each time she calls
History of His Own Time
The time you live in is the time you die in
I don't like her because she won't like me
She found her bliss between the headphones, and pursed her lips.
Her perception of how gorgeous she is will be evident in her lack of movement during sex
Once upon a time, I imagined she would be a river
serene. She sips her tea
I come home, she lifted up her wings. I guess that this must be the place.
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
Telling Anna you love her the first time
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
I ran over an old woman with her own car
Veronica loves manipulating her vagina until she explodes
She always was devious in her beauty
She bruised her knee. This is how we met.
She wears her failed relationships like a shield
The portion of her face she allows me to see
The Soul selects her own Society
She was never mine. I always shared her.
She sat in virginal white, eyes closed, with only her face in rose
She Will Have Her Way
And she, with her beautiful words and such a fire burning inside
Some nights, alone, he thinks of her, and some nights, alone, she thinks of him
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
When she sleeps, is she not moving her legs aside for an unknown garrison?
It happened to everyone else; she swore it wouldn't to her
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
She didn't wave goodbye so much as slightly raise her hand
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
i gave her my heart. she gave me a pen.
if you fear spells, look away when she decides to share her hair with the wind.
They walk around her like she is in danger of breaking
Ruth holding up time with her beauty
She who leaves men as flaming wrecks in the ditch on the side of the road in her wake, yea, even submarines
What's she gonna look like with a chimney on her?
Michael Moved Out to Live with His Bitch & Her Dog
She disappeared as if he had only dreamed her
she lit her thumb on fire
Her grief is still too young to behave itself, so she never lets it out
She picked herself up, wiping away at her dignity
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.
A woman of her times
her first time
i kissed her one last time, then walked out of her life forever
On her own
She smokes. It wraps around her wrists and clings to her neck.
She nicknamed her vagina "Crusty"
A queen in her own sense
Laid down on the bed that wasn't her own
Her sleeves ride up on her arms when she moves
Each month I love in her own way
a shade of her own features
She was a committed romantic and an anarcha-feminist. This was hard for her because it meant she couldn't blow up beautiful buildings.
She does not rustle but her flesh has the moonlit shade of a silver birch
Her heart's too real to not have its own beat
She calls him Sugarcane. He calls her Hurricane.
while she sleeps, i write myself into her life
Would you like to penetrate her shell, insinuating yourself among the pages of the books she is reading?
A time to live
We live in hedonistic times, my friend.
It's too bad she won't live. But then again, who does?
institutions have lives of their own
The Time of Our Lives
Time to Live
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.
May you live in interesting times
She opened her eyes and spoke in a very normal voice, just as if she were sane
her
Her braid; I obeyed
The Lark and Her Young Ones
I don't think of her
putting on her makeup
I daydream of her
His 'N' Hers
For Emily, Whenever I May Find Her
A really good sandwich that ideath could make to take to work with her
The Old Woman And Her Pig
dance with her
I met Death face to face, and I mocked her!
I never called her momma
Bathe her and bring her to me
I still find strands of her hair in bed
A man who never sees a pretty girl without loving her a little
Property of Her Majesty The Queen
What do girls think about guys when they catch guys staring at their breasts, but the guy is actually trying to read her shirt?
Somewhere someone is tired of taking her shit
As the band laughed, her finger traced his spine, and he folded into her

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