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Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "She introduced her kids"

Sometimes the apathy she saw made her want to curl up and cry
She gets caught in the little world beneath her sheets
At night, her eyes closed, she would
She smokes. It wraps around her wrists and clings to her neck.
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
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
When she sleeps, is she not moving her legs aside for an unknown garrison?
I come home, she lifted up her wings. I guess that this must be the place.
does she need to touch her own face to know?
She does not take her trip. She does not shout out loud.
You can play with my ex-girlfriend, but treat her like the lady that she is.
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
She is the sea. Above her, he is thunder.
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
She Will Have Her Way
He touched her once and she turned into a golden creature. He never touched her again.
She always confused her greys with white.
She nicknamed her vagina "Crusty"
She Called in Her Soul to Come and See
She was never mine. I always shared her.
Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt
Robert Lionel Fanthorpe fills up the word count in a science fiction novel: she brushed her teeth
she left her handwriting all over the calendar
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
She opened her eyes, looked at a world made entirely of white light
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 don't tell her these things, and she doesn't ask
if you fear spells, look away when she decides to share her hair with the wind.
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
while she sleeps, i write myself into her life
She picked herself up, wiping away at her dignity
i gave her my heart. she gave me a pen.
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
She is so beautiful, I gave up Nihilism for her
A girl I know had her jaw wired shut, and she vomited.
She asked me if I loved her and I showed her the tattoo
She said, while hugging a bowl of turnips close to her bosom
I haven't seen her in a month. She is still beautiful.
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
she gave her heart to a falling star
She said her father died of cancer in the sixties
She thought about giving him her heart
When she woke up, her hands were still dreaming
She ties regrets around her fingers like forget-me-knots
She asked me to copy my poem into her notebook
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
serene. She sips her tea
She plugs her tears in the way you'd keep a dam from breaking
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
She always was devious in her beauty
The portion of her face she allows me to see
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
the way she wears her weary
She bruised her knee. This is how we met.
She wears her failed relationships like a shield
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
I don't think she even knows that I make her smile
She sat in virginal white, eyes closed, with only her face in rose
She Will Have Her Way: The Songs Of Tim & Neil Finn
She didn't wave goodbye so much as slightly raise her hand
why she makes her wishes at 7:07
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
she had already found her party
She flies with her own wings
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.
It happened to everyone else; she swore it wouldn't to her
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
She practices her speech
she lit her thumb on fire
She is willing to attempt to retrieve the data. Go with her.
You put a hand on her hip, she permits it.
They walk around her like she is in danger of breaking
I told her I could read her mind, but she didn't believe me. I could tell.
Some nights, alone, he thinks of her, and some nights, alone, she thinks of him
What's she gonna look like with a chimney on her?
She knows no truth except her own.
She asked me to read her a poem
Her grief is still too young to behave itself, so she never lets it out
She keeps her lies everywhere
She, the Last Leviathan. She, the Station Agent. Chin on her Palm, she Watches Every Departure.
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
I gave her my heart, she tore it apart, and who gives a fart.
She crashed her car trying to avoid a butterfly
I would have attempted to draw her if she had stayed that way.
She disappeared as if he had only dreamed her
when she saw the funny side, we introduced my child bride to whisky and gin
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 sleeves ride up on her arms when she moves
She calls him Sugarcane. He calls her Hurricane.
Because I still love her, because I know she still loves me.
Would you like to penetrate her shell, insinuating yourself among the pages of the books she is reading?
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 opened her eyes and spoke in a very normal voice, just as if she were sane
The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover
her
Do Her
Her braid; I obeyed
The Milk-Woman and Her Pail
The Lark Burying Her Father
The Woman and Her Hen
The Lark and Her Young Ones
I don't think of her
I can see her face
Written with a Diamond on her Window at Woodstock
Take Her in Your Arms
Neko Case and Her Boyfriends
Ribbed for her pleasure
Written in her French Psalter
Things you can tell just by looking at her
Take Her up to Monto
The Author to Her Book
My love in her attire doth show her wit
If You Followed Her Gaze
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
Her Majesty
Who let her get at the Johnny Walker
I remember when it was me who made her toilet flush
Her name was Natalie
Funny -- she looks much smaller from outside her head
Pig on her back
Alice without opening her eyes says You have to stop crying you are shaking the bed.
To Her Door
A Fallen Caryatid Holding Her Stone
Stand in the doorway and watch her
The Saran Wrap Dominatrix and Her Cellophane Bondage Slave
Since I left her
All acts of love and pleasure are her rituals
A Jury of Her Peers
A Jury of Her Peers: 2
The sad thing is, if you get her you'll be sick of her in a year
A New Student and Her Father
Including her knees and a dragon made from a sock
her eyes
watching her dance
Her hands on my back; slipping into sleep
Herr Bob (user)
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
Her knees
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
My preconceived view of perfection could not accommodate her.
Don't Kill Her Daddy with Careless Talk
Feel her pain
To Her Face
There is no Goddess but Goddess and She is Your Goddess
To Her Mind
To hear her sing
Helping people cheat
The Dancefloor is our Mother. Her heart beats at 125 BPM.
I dreamed of her pulse long before I took it from her
The movie in her mind
after her, I took my coffee black
Nice Legs, Shame About Her Face
Let Her Go Down
Today I saw her again
Dig up her bones
The world is her sketchbook
standing off to the side of the lobby, watching the hostess adjust her hair
These things matter to her
How to test if your mother REALLY has eyes in the back of her head
Tied up tight, like a bride on her wedding night
I am the child with her nose pressed up against the window.

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