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Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "I broke her heart like she did mine"

She wears her failed relationships like a shield
I don't like her because she won't like me
she broke my heart
Would you like to penetrate her shell, insinuating yourself among the pages of the books she is reading?
Did you know you broke my heart today?
She ties regrets around her fingers like forget-me-knots
She thought about giving him her heart
I gave her my heart, she tore it apart, and who gives a fart.
You can play with my ex-girlfriend, but treat her like the lady that she is.
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
She has a heap of hearts on a platter and she's not getting mine
i gave her my heart. she gave me a pen.
she gave her heart to a falling star
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.
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 was never mine. I always shared her.
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
Some nights, alone, he thinks of her, and some nights, alone, she thinks of him
A fire in the street ain't like a fire in the heart
She practices her speech
And her heart stopped beating.
I killed my dog and broke my own heart
I told her I could read her mind, but she didn't believe me. I could tell.
She knows no truth except her own.
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
He breaks her heart on a daily basis
The portion of her face she allows me to see
A cute lady mechanic who fixed his engine and damn near broke his heart
She does not take her trip. She does not shout out loud.
How to Forgive the First Girl who Broke Your Heart
When I look into her eyes, I no longer care about what the world thinks. This is what it feels like to be alive.
And she, with her beautiful words and such a fire burning inside
She asked me if I loved her and I showed her the tattoo
her beauty broke my bones, shattered my thoughts, tore apart my soul
She, the Last Leviathan. She, the Station Agent. Chin on her Palm, she Watches Every Departure.
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
Her hand on my heart
I never met him. He broke my heart.
not like the shoe and not like the ring but just like the heart
licking at her broken heart
crystal eats her grilled cheese sandwiches with ketchup hearts
She will remember your heart when men are fairy tales in books written by rabbits
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.
broke (n hearted)
I ate her love like a nine-piece bucket of chicken
She is so beautiful, I gave up Nihilism for her
It happened to everyone else; she swore it wouldn't to her
She didn't wave goodbye so much as slightly raise her hand
she had already found her party
She is the sea. Above her, he is thunder.
she lit her thumb on fire
I like it when I dream of her. It's the only time we get to talk.
You put a hand on her hip, she permits it.
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
waiting for his arms to fold like wings around her
She keeps her lies everywhere
A girl I know had her jaw wired shut, and she vomited.
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
Tolkien did not like magic
My heart is like a bird in the wounded night
the morning snowdrops fall like dew in the sunlight and fill my heart with their icy cold and all i can think about is you
she wants to kill and break hearts
To her secret heart
she left a little Java-shaped hole in my heart
Men did not always like large breasts
I don't want to set the world on fire. I just want to start a flame in her heart.
She Looks Good, but She Has an Ugly Heart
My heart is like the sun
And her knee touched mine
I haven't seen her in a month. She is still beautiful.
She calls him Sugarcane. He calls her Hurricane.
She sat in virginal white, eyes closed, with only her face in rose
Fuck and please her like never before with the Stimulator!
She does not rustle but her flesh has the moonlit shade of a silver birch
She found her bliss between the headphones, and pursed her lips.
She plugs her tears in the way you'd keep a dam from breaking
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
And her legs went on forever, like staring up at infinity
Veronica loves manipulating her vagina until she explodes
I don't think she even knows that I make her smile
I don't tell her these things, and she doesn't ask
She asked me to copy my poem into her notebook
I have not been entirely truthful with you. I did gagoogidy that girl. I gashmoygadied her gaflavity with my googus.
It clings to her like dedication in the rain
while she sleeps, i write myself into her life
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
if you fear spells, look away when she decides to share her hair with the wind.
She gets caught in the little world beneath her sheets
What did Jesus look like?
I feel like I don't know her for a moment. It passes.
She picked herself up, wiping away at her dignity
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
That week with her was like drinking bubbles
I told her the driftwood looked like Spain
She is willing to attempt to retrieve the data. Go with her.
Her eyes were gray like a storm, and even more dangerous
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 Will Have Her Way: The Songs Of Tim & Neil Finn
My friend is dating someone who likes him far more than he likes her
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.
She asked me to read her a poem
She smokes. It wraps around her wrists and clings to her neck.
She nicknamed her vagina "Crusty"
That was what her hunger was like: mesmerizing, directed, floating like a public secret just under the cloud cover.
She Called in Her Soul to Come and See
Because I still love her, because I know she still loves me.
the way she wears her weary
Don't kill your invisible husband to see what he looks like or you'll sob your heart out. But don't worry about the millions of invisible men coming to attack your village because they won't kill you if you don't know how to fight them.
Here's your heart, usually I don't like dead things as gifts.
The Dancefloor is our Mother. Her heart beats at 125 BPM.
She breaks hearts almost as often as she breaks the speed of sound
When Did You See Her Last?
Is this the world of her heart?
Heart Like a Wheel
Her heart is in little tiny pieces that are going to blow away.
She collected broken hearts
because his heart was heavy, closing, like a tired eyelid
I would like to step out of my heart and go walking beneath the enormous sky
I dug my claws in her heart
How did the matrix know what blue looked like?
I did not tell him, instead I kept it private like a secret hug
Her heart's too real to not have its own beat
That's my heart lying in the gutter there; a heart like a shattered banana.
heart medications which all have names like alien military from other planets
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
(she's a monster) she ate my heart
I never told you she stole my heart
He throws his heart down like a gauntlet
Did You Fuck Her?
She said, while hugging a bowl of turnips close to her bosom
She bruised her knee. This is how we met.
She flies with her own wings
Her perception of how gorgeous she is will be evident in her lack of movement during sex
Robert Lionel Fanthorpe fills up the word count in a science fiction novel: she brushed her teeth
Tied up tight, like a bride on her wedding night
She was a committed romantic and an anarcha-feminist. This was hard for her because it meant she couldn't blow up beautiful buildings.
The colors flow through her like a rainbow
She opened her eyes and spoke in a very normal voice, just as if she were sane
Her grief is still too young to behave itself, so she never lets it out
They did not forgive us, she thought. We will surely die.
Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt
I come home, she lifted up her wings. I guess that this must be the place.
Sometimes the apathy she saw made her want to curl up and cry
serene. She sips her tea
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
she left her handwriting all over the calendar
At night, her eyes closed, she would
Even the moon likes to change her colors
She always was devious in her beauty
does she need to touch her own face to know?
Seems I might have stolen the blue part of her rainbow, but all I really did was make it bigger, a way bigger blue
She who leaves men as flaming wrecks in the ditch on the side of the road in her wake, yea, even submarines
sunset rainwater turns her sidewalk chalk-art into a sherbert delight; a surprise gift from chaos that tumbles her like tinkling bells onto the wet grass
Did you mean for it to look like this?
He touched her once and she turned into a golden creature. He never touched her again.
When she woke up, her hands were still dreaming
her lips on mine
Well, what happened? Did she succeed?
I got a girl in the war, Paul, her eyes are like champagne
She Will Have Her Way
She opened her eyes, looked at a world made entirely of white light
why she makes her wishes at 7:07
My grandma died yesterday. Did she die?
When she sleeps, is she not moving her legs aside for an unknown garrison?
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
her ardent eyebrows are charcoal scimitars taut above eyes that breeze like open windows
She is the queen of accidental magic. Her used kleenexes, taken by the wind, become soulful ghosts.
She was the cutest necromancer I ever did see

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