“Tangled up in blue,” he used to sing his heart out, back when we were young. Back then I thought life was about something else- that if only I could attain freedom over my own decisions, this life would be fulfilled. That was before I learned that adulthood was only a different sort of prison, a larger, lonelier sort of prison.. tangled up in blue.
Tangle means that something is knotty or snarled. My hair is always tangled so it always has a knot or two. Tangles are always in my hair wether I like it or not. To tangle something you could tie it or make a mess of it.
Being tangled in a mess of metaphorical family knots that keep my bound and gagged until I can break free from the shackles of family, life, and death. Like a mess of nappy, unmanageable hair that never shines.
Her hair was tangled. The curls knotted all the way down her back. She looked at the brush in her grandmother’s hand and felt fear wriggle its way down her spine.
I looked down at the tangled mass of bright red yarn on my lap. I’d lost track of what I was doing, and something had gone horribly awry. I held the bunch up. Probably couldn’t be salvaged.
He would tangle her hair into his finger while she was asleep. She was perfect and he loved her. Yet he never knew how to say it to her face. So, instead, he would just whisper it into her ear every night, his fingers entangled in her long locks.
Tangle is that annoying thing that happens to your hair when you don’t use enough conditioner in the shower. It happens to the blankets at the end of your bed when you toss and turn all night. It happens when you’re with your close friends and you’re watching a movie. Limbs get all tangled and there’s nothing you can do about it. Often times, it happens in moments of passion. You and your lover get all tangled in the sheets and don’t come up for air for hours or even days if you’ve got the time.
Her hair was a mindless tangle of leaves, mud and miscellaneous forms of life. She knew it would take ages to comb through. She would have to carefully comb them out, one by one. but for now, she was happy. Complete bliss in the freedom of nature.
a ton of extension cords, being in a box being transported to an apartment. they aren’t apart they are together. That’s what it is to tangle. With someone you care for under a blanket, their legs in yours. Tangle. That’s what it is.
There it was. The tangle in the sheets that showed what had transpired there the night before. She sat at the edge of the bed trying not to cry as she thought about it. His hands roaming her body, her skin feeling all tingly as he touched her in places she had only ever let one other man touch her. She sighed and deciding to just let it happen she cried, hot fresh tears pouring down her face as she tried to picture what the hell her husband was going to say when he found out because there was no way she could not not tell him.
Your hair can get tangled, or you can get tangled up in something. Like rope, web, a relationship, drama, etc. There are many meanings for this word. There’s even a movie now called tangle. And you can get detangling spray to un tangle your hair. I hate being tangled up in a mess.
Tangled in the mess of my hair I hurried from bed and out the door. Having over slept again I had to rush to make sure I didn’t leave those on the other end of my arrangement annoyed and alone. Through the grey and the rain I ran through the trails and the mud, unaware of those others I was passing in my haste.
I tangle myself up in my own webs. The first day, twirling the silk in the a lovely pattern, going in intricate circles as it ought. The next, I’m crossing the precious material against itself, jarring the holy against the horrible. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. But if my flesh is this weak…how willing is my spirit anyway?
It was her hair. The essence of shine and beauty. The way when I stroke it she moves her head o match with the tips of my fingers. I like the way if I kiss her head she smiles. The way she runs her fingers through my hair with the tips if her nails. They are arousing with joy. She arouses me with joy. Tangles are never overlooked after a hot shower with her. I like the way her long golden locks fall and attach to the side of her body. She is golden. I like it when she jumps in my arms after a shower and asks me to brush her tangles out. I like the way her hair is cold but her heart is warm. She is what makes me a food man. A good human being. I love her tangles. Her tangles are exceptionally beautiful
The wooly taste got tangled in his mouth. Or rather the effects of the strange chocolate rain tangled his speech capabilities. He was trying mightily to speak into the mic, but all that came out was gibberish. “Whit zer phaking?!”
I got a tangle in my hair. I tried and tried to get rid of it, but try as I might, the darn thing wouldn’t budge. Hair brushes didn’t help. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I cut it out. Now I have a chunk of hair still missing. It sucks. I don’t want to be bald.
I look into the mirror. I look at my hair, thousands, millions, billions of strands. The light brown mixing with the dark brown. Tangles everywhere near my neck. Strands sticking out in different directions, refusing to stay in place. “I really should just shave my head.”
Tangle, it took me while to figure out what that meant. But tangle, ah yes, like your headphones after they’ve been in your pocket. Or the way cords always seem to tangle even though they don’t even move.
the preamble to the tangle took place at the bar, before that the restaurant. after the bar she asked, “where should we go from here?” he deftly replied, “how ’bout some place comfy? i’ve got a very comfy place.” knowing what he meant she conceded since there was no reason not to and it was a cold night. they went back to his place and i would tell you how it went but that would just be lewd and probably a bit pornographic for a forum like oneword.com so the challenge of writing a sex scene will now switch to my word processor…bye
I want to be tangled in someone, so absorbed in them that i can’t see the world. I want to be suffocated and smothered by them until i feel so loved that i can’t stand it any longer. Oh i just want to be loved.
Arms all akimbo. Always wanted to use that phrase in conversation; and here was the moment. Like a glorious dawn, and yet when in the moment, the clinch, breath escaped me; caught in the heart of the tumble.
she gets tangled some times. not too sure why. maybe because she doesn’t really understand what’s all about. maybe the stuff is too big and exciting but then again its yarn and she’s a cat.
In a tangle, my hair was wound up around in a plop on my head. His fingers, shaking, brought up and ran through the blonde strands, straightening them out.
He swings from the tangles of my heart. He doesn’t even know it, but he’s hanging from a string. A small, fragile string that is just too tired to keep holding on to such a big heavy promise. So let go, let go of this tangle heart. And maybe finally, well cut off these tangled strings of ours.
I love the movie tangled. Its an awesome movie. But, when i think of the word tangle, it reminds me of the shampoo i used as a child. (i still use it) (: It said “No tears” and it reminds me of tangle. but its really tears… like crying. i never knew that. Tangle. Such a weird word.
I got tangled in your legs. In the sheets under the sunrise. In your Goldilocks hair. In your beige summer gown. In my own desperate hope for Happily Ever After. In your little white lies.
And now I’m tangled, tangled beyond release. Tangled in this utopia I created for the two of us.
The tangle of emotions today has been almost too great to bare. The loss of a friend, the overwhelming depression that follows so closely behind it. I can hardly think straight. I hope you’re in a better place…
Tangled up in you? That’s where I’d like to be. It’s not fair how far we are apart. This long distance relationship has gotten very hard and I love you and I want it to work. It’s just so hard. But we’ll make it work. I know that we can do it. Once you’re back here we’ll spend all day together.
some eyes look upon the curls of your hair
seeing, feeling, understanding
the tangles of your hair
they tell the story of your soul
disturbed, unwanted, misunderstood
i wish i could untangle the tangles
that tie you to me.
tangled in hair, i couldn’t breath. I loved the smell. It gave me a rush, like the rush of speeding through a field of flowers at 120mph.
“Tangled up in blue,” he used to sing his heart out, back when we were young. Back then I thought life was about something else- that if only I could attain freedom over my own decisions, this life would be fulfilled. That was before I learned that adulthood was only a different sort of prison, a larger, lonelier sort of prison.. tangled up in blue.
The tangled mess of the forest floor caught her foot. He was coming. All she could do was try franticly to undo it.
Tangle means that something is knotty or snarled. My hair is always tangled so it always has a knot or two. Tangles are always in my hair wether I like it or not. To tangle something you could tie it or make a mess of it.
Being tangled in a mess of metaphorical family knots that keep my bound and gagged until I can break free from the shackles of family, life, and death. Like a mess of nappy, unmanageable hair that never shines.
Her hair was tangled. The curls knotted all the way down her back. She looked at the brush in her grandmother’s hand and felt fear wriggle its way down her spine.
Confusion. 60 seconds in a long time to write. I don’t know what I’m doing. Argghhhh.
In a tangle with my thoughts!
I looked down at the tangled mass of bright red yarn on my lap. I’d lost track of what I was doing, and something had gone horribly awry. I held the bunch up. Probably couldn’t be salvaged.
He would tangle her hair into his finger while she was asleep. She was perfect and he loved her. Yet he never knew how to say it to her face. So, instead, he would just whisper it into her ear every night, his fingers entangled in her long locks.
Tangle is that annoying thing that happens to your hair when you don’t use enough conditioner in the shower. It happens to the blankets at the end of your bed when you toss and turn all night. It happens when you’re with your close friends and you’re watching a movie. Limbs get all tangled and there’s nothing you can do about it. Often times, it happens in moments of passion. You and your lover get all tangled in the sheets and don’t come up for air for hours or even days if you’ve got the time.
Her hair was a mindless tangle of leaves, mud and miscellaneous forms of life. She knew it would take ages to comb through. She would have to carefully comb them out, one by one. but for now, she was happy. Complete bliss in the freedom of nature.
a ton of extension cords, being in a box being transported to an apartment. they aren’t apart they are together. That’s what it is to tangle. With someone you care for under a blanket, their legs in yours. Tangle. That’s what it is.
There it was. The tangle in the sheets that showed what had transpired there the night before. She sat at the edge of the bed trying not to cry as she thought about it. His hands roaming her body, her skin feeling all tingly as he touched her in places she had only ever let one other man touch her. She sighed and deciding to just let it happen she cried, hot fresh tears pouring down her face as she tried to picture what the hell her husband was going to say when he found out because there was no way she could not not tell him.
Your hair can get tangled, or you can get tangled up in something. Like rope, web, a relationship, drama, etc. There are many meanings for this word. There’s even a movie now called tangle. And you can get detangling spray to un tangle your hair. I hate being tangled up in a mess.
Tangled in the mess of my hair I hurried from bed and out the door. Having over slept again I had to rush to make sure I didn’t leave those on the other end of my arrangement annoyed and alone. Through the grey and the rain I ran through the trails and the mud, unaware of those others I was passing in my haste.
I tangle myself up in my own webs. The first day, twirling the silk in the a lovely pattern, going in intricate circles as it ought. The next, I’m crossing the precious material against itself, jarring the holy against the horrible. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. But if my flesh is this weak…how willing is my spirit anyway?
hair. rapunzel. fairy tales. princesses.
strings. cats playing.
mess. life. hard situations. fights. trap. maze.
Intricate threads tangle in a network of a million knots and instead of trying to untie them, I throw them into the ocean. Is the next word “tango”?
It was her hair. The essence of shine and beauty. The way when I stroke it she moves her head o match with the tips of my fingers. I like the way if I kiss her head she smiles. The way she runs her fingers through my hair with the tips if her nails. They are arousing with joy. She arouses me with joy. Tangles are never overlooked after a hot shower with her. I like the way her long golden locks fall and attach to the side of her body. She is golden. I like it when she jumps in my arms after a shower and asks me to brush her tangles out. I like the way her hair is cold but her heart is warm. She is what makes me a food man. A good human being. I love her tangles. Her tangles are exceptionally beautiful
The wooly taste got tangled in his mouth. Or rather the effects of the strange chocolate rain tangled his speech capabilities. He was trying mightily to speak into the mic, but all that came out was gibberish. “Whit zer phaking?!”
give to what is unseen,
my sushi is gone, move
over a bit,
I’d like some more water,
and a cloth
to wipe the spilt,
snow is falling into the
Liffey at an increasing rate,
a bottle of whisky,
gone cheap
nearly Christmas
again
give to what is unseen,
my sushi is gone, move
over a bit,
I’d like some more water,
and a cloth
to wipe the spilt,
snow is falling into the
Liffey at an increasing rate,
a bottle of whisky,
gone cheep
nearly Christmas
again
I got a tangle in my hair. I tried and tried to get rid of it, but try as I might, the darn thing wouldn’t budge. Hair brushes didn’t help. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I cut it out. Now I have a chunk of hair still missing. It sucks. I don’t want to be bald.
I look into the mirror. I look at my hair, thousands, millions, billions of strands. The light brown mixing with the dark brown. Tangles everywhere near my neck. Strands sticking out in different directions, refusing to stay in place. “I really should just shave my head.”
Tangle, it took me while to figure out what that meant. But tangle, ah yes, like your headphones after they’ve been in your pocket. Or the way cords always seem to tangle even though they don’t even move.
the preamble to the tangle took place at the bar, before that the restaurant. after the bar she asked, “where should we go from here?” he deftly replied, “how ’bout some place comfy? i’ve got a very comfy place.” knowing what he meant she conceded since there was no reason not to and it was a cold night. they went back to his place and i would tell you how it went but that would just be lewd and probably a bit pornographic for a forum like oneword.com so the challenge of writing a sex scene will now switch to my word processor…bye
I want to be tangled in someone, so absorbed in them that i can’t see the world. I want to be suffocated and smothered by them until i feel so loved that i can’t stand it any longer. Oh i just want to be loved.
Arms all akimbo. Always wanted to use that phrase in conversation; and here was the moment. Like a glorious dawn, and yet when in the moment, the clinch, breath escaped me; caught in the heart of the tumble.
she gets tangled some times. not too sure why. maybe because she doesn’t really understand what’s all about. maybe the stuff is too big and exciting but then again its yarn and she’s a cat.
In a tangle, my hair was wound up around in a plop on my head. His fingers, shaking, brought up and ran through the blonde strands, straightening them out.
He swings from the tangles of my heart. He doesn’t even know it, but he’s hanging from a string. A small, fragile string that is just too tired to keep holding on to such a big heavy promise. So let go, let go of this tangle heart. And maybe finally, well cut off these tangled strings of ours.
A tangle in the hair is better than a tangle of the mind… the tang in tangle stings as it unravels messily. The aching mind clears.
I love the movie tangled. Its an awesome movie. But, when i think of the word tangle, it reminds me of the shampoo i used as a child. (i still use it) (: It said “No tears” and it reminds me of tangle. but its really tears… like crying. i never knew that. Tangle. Such a weird word.
there are angels in your angles, there’s a low moon caught in your tangles.j
I got tangled in your legs. In the sheets under the sunrise. In your Goldilocks hair. In your beige summer gown. In my own desperate hope for Happily Ever After. In your little white lies.
And now I’m tangled, tangled beyond release. Tangled in this utopia I created for the two of us.
tangled around my finger like a drop of rain rests a three ringed potato that sings out mercy with out a thought of the real world.
The tangle of emotions today has been almost too great to bare. The loss of a friend, the overwhelming depression that follows so closely behind it. I can hardly think straight. I hope you’re in a better place…
tangled intertwined
mass so inescapable
lost in confusing
my purpose with act
looking
searching
for the untangled
Tangled up in you? That’s where I’d like to be. It’s not fair how far we are apart. This long distance relationship has gotten very hard and I love you and I want it to work. It’s just so hard. But we’ll make it work. I know that we can do it. Once you’re back here we’ll spend all day together.
some eyes look upon the curls of your hair
seeing, feeling, understanding
the tangles of your hair
they tell the story of your soul
disturbed, unwanted, misunderstood
i wish i could untangle the tangles
that tie you to me.