i brushed my hair this morning. i used a purple brush. i brushed my teeth. my toothbrush is red. it can retract. my hand brushed some guy at the monorail. it was nice. a lady brushed against me. i don’t like being touched. its scary. i brushed my mom’s hair.
paintbrsuh, it reminds me of when i painted a house with my friends and my ex. i miss him. it was his b-day today. i like paint. God is good with paintbrushes. he paints in all colors. I love it. and i know he will bring my loveback. even tho i seem to doubt. he lies colors too. Colors are like love and only stand out when at best.
or allowed at least
god please oh please…
It was so fast. He didn’t even notice me and I never saw his face. He smelled of leaves in fall and old spice, like my grandpa. I wanted to reach out and touch him, but my fingers only brushed his arm, and he was gone.
She brushed his hand off of her cheek as he tried to wipe her tears away, she was hurt by another and wss taking it out on the one man willing to help her. She brushed her own tears away with the backs of her hands. He could tell she had brushed off his affection…
she brushed back her long hair like waves like waves so little time. she wondered what would have happened, had they met. so little time, so much to wonder. she brushed back her long hair and smiled with earnest and love.
i brushed the bristles over my hair. did i really cut it this short? what possessed me to chop off the mane i’ve spent years growing? i hope i don’t look too butch… what if he doesn’t like it? no matter- i feel more like myself than ever. it’s my head. my hair. my heart.
as you wake they brush you out the door.
as you go in they rush you out once more,
as you begin to speak they hush you more and more
as you start to fly they crush your wings.
The leaves barely brushed her skin, but as she stared at them, willing the reality away, the itching began. Her feet obeyed the compulsion to jump away from the leafy vine and she scratched absently before stopping herself, holding both arm and hand away from her body as she rushed inside for the ointment.
i usually brush my hair. sometimes i brush canvases, i love to paint i may not be monet, but i love it. it makes me feel so free and alive. i want to use every color and stroke and not think. thats the best thing about it. no thinking involved. its perfection.
i wake up, try to brush this nappy jet black rats nest for hair.lug my self to the bathroom and brush my teeth, to get ready for this horribly bright and cheerful day.
Our entire lives are brushed aside for stupid and pointless things. When you think about it, it should be enough to make you cry. The opportunities that our one life will offer us, completely ignored. And then you will die and be forever forgotten – blown into oblivion.
And you could have done so many things, if only you’d realized.
She brushed her hair back from her face, looking out over the field. She hadn’t been there is quite a while and, for the moment, was washed away by memories.
hair brush. i brush my hair after i get out of the shower. i dont always brush my hair because it is curly and i dont want it frizzy. brush the horses mane. the dogs fur. i brushed pass you. brush your teeth!
I brushed my hair. He brushed against me, I could feel the tingles his body left on my arm. They brushed away the sadness with a simple little story about something completely inane and wholly amusing that had happened to them that day. We brushed against each other again in between the shelves of the library…it was on purpose and it was worth the awkwardness of flirtation.
The girl brushed the horses hair for hours every day. Though her blind eyes couldn’t see the effects of her work, she knew that the horse appreciated it. With each stoke of the brush, the girl and horse grew closer and closer. The bond they shared through this one simple act was unlike any other. Because of this one act, the horse was the girls only friend.
he brushed against her slowly passing the ends of the tapestry over the cold white marble of her lifeless arms. slowly, surely the chisel made its way up towards her temple, drawing a light scratch along the surface of her pearled skin.
they were talking, just talking, and it happened. Quite innocently, accidently, her hand brushed his arm. little lightning bolts jumped from fingers to skin, and they flinched apart. after a moment, they started their conversation up again, but it meandered, hesitant and stuttering. they both stared at some point in the distance, careful not to meet the other’s eyes. her fingers tingled with static, and his arm burned like frostbite.
my hair until it fell out and then it grew back and all my friends were very excited about it and so was i until i had to start figuring out what to do with it again but i am glad to have it back so now i don’t know what else to say about that ok still got time left on the clock i guess i type too fast
as i walk through the sage brush i fell the scraggly pine up against my knees it brushes it brushed as though it were carressing a lover, roughly though. i looked to the sky and the clouds look as though brushed on by a bamboo leaves
Brushed, its a word that makes me think of something moving over something else, like fur. It’s rather strange actually, that brushed brings back many of my memories. I really wish i knew why brushed makes me think of so many things in my life, like horse back riding and such.
I brushed her hair out of her eyes, and looked deep in there. The color was almost the color I was looking for. Dark, but with the hint of some sunshine in the deep blue waters. That look I will never forget, as I heard the door slam and she didn’t look back. Last time I saw those eyes of hers. Forget it all ever happened. Where to turn and run away to?
the artist stoked up and down the canvas. The masses of colors that appeared to scar the canvas would soon be a masterpiece of the likes none had ever seen. He then closed his eyes and continued picturing the landscape that would soon be.
That’s all it ever was. It never lingered for more than a second, for more than it took to be seen, but not touched. Fleeting, all of it. Gone, gone, gone.
I brushed my hair, I brushed my dog. I brushed outside in a rush. I saw the lighting that followed. It was quite loud, it scared the neighbors. I rushed by them when they saw it, There was a cloud over head, I was scared by it. I hurried out of the way.
i haven’t brushed my hair in years now…i remember having long hair in highschool and younger and how it never looked right to me, never felt good when it touched my neck or shoulders. my hair is my spiritual organ and it feels so good cut to contour with my head…a haircut unlike any other i’ve seen before but it flows, there’s a lot going on but it works
Brushed off? That’s not so great.
Brushed down? That’s pretty nice, if you’re a horse.
I don’t generally brush my hair. I let the wind dry it out, and leave it where it lands.
i brushed my hair this morning. i used a purple brush. i brushed my teeth. my toothbrush is red. it can retract. my hand brushed some guy at the monorail. it was nice. a lady brushed against me. i don’t like being touched. its scary. i brushed my mom’s hair.
paintbrsuh, it reminds me of when i painted a house with my friends and my ex. i miss him. it was his b-day today. i like paint. God is good with paintbrushes. he paints in all colors. I love it. and i know he will bring my loveback. even tho i seem to doubt. he lies colors too. Colors are like love and only stand out when at best.
or allowed at least
god please oh please…
It was so fast. He didn’t even notice me and I never saw his face. He smelled of leaves in fall and old spice, like my grandpa. I wanted to reach out and touch him, but my fingers only brushed his arm, and he was gone.
painted. touched. skin is brushed. faces are brushed on. lips are brushed up against. strangers brush up against me.
fingertips taking trips,
brushing skin across my lips
heart is pounding, doing flips
is this it? this must be it
She brushed his hand off of her cheek as he tried to wipe her tears away, she was hurt by another and wss taking it out on the one man willing to help her. She brushed her own tears away with the backs of her hands. He could tell she had brushed off his affection…
she brushed back her long hair like waves like waves so little time. she wondered what would have happened, had they met. so little time, so much to wonder. she brushed back her long hair and smiled with earnest and love.
Death brushed by me in the form of a fast moving mom with a double-wide baby stroller.
i was walking at the boardwalk and so many peoples shoulders brushed by mine and to admit it i love that felling
as she coombs her long yellow golden hair,
i was blinded by the fear in her eyes.
i brushed the bristles over my hair. did i really cut it this short? what possessed me to chop off the mane i’ve spent years growing? i hope i don’t look too butch… what if he doesn’t like it? no matter- i feel more like myself than ever. it’s my head. my hair. my heart.
as you wake they brush you out the door.
as you go in they rush you out once more,
as you begin to speak they hush you more and more
as you start to fly they crush your wings.
The leaves barely brushed her skin, but as she stared at them, willing the reality away, the itching began. Her feet obeyed the compulsion to jump away from the leafy vine and she scratched absently before stopping herself, holding both arm and hand away from her body as she rushed inside for the ointment.
i usually brush my hair. sometimes i brush canvases, i love to paint i may not be monet, but i love it. it makes me feel so free and alive. i want to use every color and stroke and not think. thats the best thing about it. no thinking involved. its perfection.
i wake up, try to brush this nappy jet black rats nest for hair.lug my self to the bathroom and brush my teeth, to get ready for this horribly bright and cheerful day.
Our entire lives are brushed aside for stupid and pointless things. When you think about it, it should be enough to make you cry. The opportunities that our one life will offer us, completely ignored. And then you will die and be forever forgotten – blown into oblivion.
And you could have done so many things, if only you’d realized.
She brushed her hair back from her face, looking out over the field. She hadn’t been there is quite a while and, for the moment, was washed away by memories.
Brushed teeth brushed hair brushed death simple brushes with fate destiny all blurring into a simple fact that life is a tangled mess
the nappy hair until the girl said please stop it is hurting my head. Then I said that stop crying nappy head.
He brushed his arm against mine and while he blushed and looked away I had the urge to throw a punch or two.
Brushed.
Red bush.
Rub shed.
I need to stop playing with anagram puzzle solvers.
hair brush. i brush my hair after i get out of the shower. i dont always brush my hair because it is curly and i dont want it frizzy. brush the horses mane. the dogs fur. i brushed pass you. brush your teeth!
I brushed my stallion as we prepared for the race, this day would both of our defining moments. The dream or failure of a lifetime…
excellent
I brushed my hair. He brushed against me, I could feel the tingles his body left on my arm. They brushed away the sadness with a simple little story about something completely inane and wholly amusing that had happened to them that day. We brushed against each other again in between the shelves of the library…it was on purpose and it was worth the awkwardness of flirtation.
The girl brushed the horses hair for hours every day. Though her blind eyes couldn’t see the effects of her work, she knew that the horse appreciated it. With each stoke of the brush, the girl and horse grew closer and closer. The bond they shared through this one simple act was unlike any other. Because of this one act, the horse was the girls only friend.
he brushed against her slowly passing the ends of the tapestry over the cold white marble of her lifeless arms. slowly, surely the chisel made its way up towards her temple, drawing a light scratch along the surface of her pearled skin.
they were talking, just talking, and it happened. Quite innocently, accidently, her hand brushed his arm. little lightning bolts jumped from fingers to skin, and they flinched apart. after a moment, they started their conversation up again, but it meandered, hesitant and stuttering. they both stared at some point in the distance, careful not to meet the other’s eyes. her fingers tingled with static, and his arm burned like frostbite.
my hair until it fell out and then it grew back and all my friends were very excited about it and so was i until i had to start figuring out what to do with it again but i am glad to have it back so now i don’t know what else to say about that ok still got time left on the clock i guess i type too fast
as i walk through the sage brush i fell the scraggly pine up against my knees it brushes it brushed as though it were carressing a lover, roughly though. i looked to the sky and the clouds look as though brushed on by a bamboo leaves
Brushed, its a word that makes me think of something moving over something else, like fur. It’s rather strange actually, that brushed brings back many of my memories. I really wish i knew why brushed makes me think of so many things in my life, like horse back riding and such.
brushed anything from a romantic brushed to a sickly grostesque… brush my hair and brush my teeth, get all with lies beneath
I brushed her hair out of her eyes, and looked deep in there. The color was almost the color I was looking for. Dark, but with the hint of some sunshine in the deep blue waters. That look I will never forget, as I heard the door slam and she didn’t look back. Last time I saw those eyes of hers. Forget it all ever happened. Where to turn and run away to?
the artist stoked up and down the canvas. The masses of colors that appeared to scar the canvas would soon be a masterpiece of the likes none had ever seen. He then closed his eyes and continued picturing the landscape that would soon be.
That’s all it ever was. It never lingered for more than a second, for more than it took to be seen, but not touched. Fleeting, all of it. Gone, gone, gone.
painting
horses
hair
dog
walking
city
rushed
my cat
I brushed my hair, I brushed my dog. I brushed outside in a rush. I saw the lighting that followed. It was quite loud, it scared the neighbors. I rushed by them when they saw it, There was a cloud over head, I was scared by it. I hurried out of the way.
i haven’t brushed my hair in years now…i remember having long hair in highschool and younger and how it never looked right to me, never felt good when it touched my neck or shoulders. my hair is my spiritual organ and it feels so good cut to contour with my head…a haircut unlike any other i’ve seen before but it flows, there’s a lot going on but it works
My hair was knotted beyond belief. How long had I been out. Five Minutes? Five days? Where was Louisa?
Brushed off? That’s not so great.
Brushed down? That’s pretty nice, if you’re a horse.
I don’t generally brush my hair. I let the wind dry it out, and leave it where it lands.