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"supernovas" poems
I wrote this for you a long time ago on a coffee stained napkin, after you left me, full of love, lingering in a cafe. "For you, in all your follies and faults and the way they make you so perfect for me. For you, in the moments that linger in the vehemently insignificant corners and corridors of things, as if drifted of their own grandure. For you, for the words that spill to the floor and the brilliant way you understand the deafening silence that follows. For you, for your supernovas and clever shades, for your daylight smiles and nighttime skins. For you, for your familiarity and the impossible truths that stand as martyrs to say that I have loved you before. For you, despite the treachery and quiet sinister fun of the world. For you, for making me so terribly scared of dying." Yet here I am, in your wake, so full of so many thoughts and demons. Know that I have died, that I have loved and lost with equal measure.
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Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 12:23 AM UTC
For you.
I write about the stars too much. I blame you. Eyes holding galaxies in sweet captivity. That starstruck feeling when you look at me. Lips that taste of constellations. Ecstacy of cosmic proportions. Words drawing me in like a black hole. Your body, like a goddess swimming in stardust. Accidental perfection parallel to the Milky Way. Your laugh as bright as a thousand supernovas. Heart made of stars, filling the space in my own. I write about the stars too much. But really, I just write about you, the best of them all. ~S.C. Kelley
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Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 4:45 PM UTC
I Write About The Stars Too Much
I wish that I was filled with stars intricate, intimate arrays to guide me to the edge of myself and beyond my soul the brightest in a unique constellation of my naming my love many-hued nebula expanding to fill the void my losses supernovas both beautiful and tragic But I am not celestial earth-bound I must navigate by stroke of skin whiff of memory trace of sadness night vision rudimentary compasses in a sea of misunderstanding.
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Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 11:27 AM UTC
Navigate
My wrists bleed out cosmos Supernovas and galaxies Rest in my bones I’m weighed down by black holes My scars connect Like constellations Mapping out myths on my skin I have comets For eyes And space debris For a heart Gravity has long let me go Now I float In an empty outer space
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Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 7:32 PM UTC
Empty Outer Space
boy, do I miss you everything about you when you kissed me I felt supernovas exploding and you left bruises staining my neck that I never want to heal.
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Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 7:05 PM UTC
sext:
1 A halo of everything from the nothing. 2 Both seeds and grows space and cosmos. 3 Supernovas are but whimpers to the maker.
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Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 1:09 PM UTC
Genesis 0
if I could be any one of your body parts I’d be your fingertips. when you break my gaze on screen, I yearn for it like a lost child. keep pushing others out of the way at aquariums so I can touch the stingrays and nudge my calves with your nose when you want to be brushed I promise to always remember where your car is parked, if you let me keep that photo of you as a young pilot in my pocket in public spaces, we fill the air between us with supernovas. you are Sirius you are the lobster you are the look across the room at a party; feel my phantom hands on your shoulders I’ll crawl into the nape of your neck and make a home plaster myself across your skin so you can find me in the grooves of your hands I’ll sew my words into your sheets so you will never be without them promise me you’ll comb out your tangled hair if it gets too much and wait for me by the Whitney as I walk 341 miles for you.
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Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 11:43 PM UTC
limerence
what i said: "you sound rough this morning." what i meant: "your voice is lavender and honey and tea time and supernovas colliding with gentle breezes and if i could wake up to it, just once, cocooned in a tangle of your arms and couch cushions and that blanket you keep in the back of your car, i swear by the stars in my eyes no one on this godforsaken planet would be out of earshot of my singing i hope that tonight when i dream of you--it is no longer a matter of uncertainty, but anticipation--you speak like you've just overslept your alarm and frantically motored yourself to where i am, like is the case today. i wish you had chosen me but if i could only listen to you speak to me, about anything--rivers or math homework or football or belonging or music or even your girlfriend--i promise i would listen with the beating urgency of a swimmer in a frozen stream, i would savor each word from your lips, like they were the spring and i was the underground daisy waiting for your kiss. and in precisely three days i will have an essay to compose about a beautiful topic that would consume me thoroughly were it not for the memory of your groggy morning voice, so full of raspy complacency i can't breathe but instead of fulfilling my obligations i will be hashing out halfway comprehensible poetry about you and crying about how i cannot recreate the sound of your voice with any combination of hollowly clicking keys. you are so beautiful that i could spend the remainder of my life with a five-subject notebook, scrawling 'your eyes. your smile. your hands. your voice' over and over endlessly and die feeling as though i had lived a thousand years of quiet adventure. you are so much and too much for me and i have no idea why you see as much in me as you do but i will not question it, for fear that if i were to come too close to you, to run my fingers along the marvel of your face you would shrivel and unfurl into nonexistence, like the leaf in the fire." and also: "why can't your voice always sound like this?" and finally: ******* you're attractive"
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Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 12:24 AM UTC
to a certain sleepyhead.
what i said: "you sound rough this morning." what i meant: "your voice is lavender and honey and tea time and supernovas colliding with gentle breezes and if i could wake up to it, just once, cocooned in a tangle of your arms and couch cushions and that blanket you keep in the back of your car, i swear by the stars in my eyes no one on this godforsaken planet would be out of earshot of my singing i hope that tonight when i dream of you--it is no longer a matter of uncertainty, but anticipation--you speak like you've just overslept your alarm and frantically motored yourself to where i am, like is the case today. i wish you had chosen me but if i could only listen to you speak to me, about anything--rivers or math homework or football or belonging or music or even your girlfriend--i promise i would listen with the beating urgency of a swimmer in a frozen stream, i would savor each word from your lips, like they were the spring and i was the underground daisy waiting for your kiss. and in precisely three days i will have an essay to compose about a beautiful topic that would consume me thoroughly were it not for the memory of your groggy morning voice, so full of raspy complacency i can't breathe but instead of fulfilling my obligations i will be hashing out halfway comprehensible poetry about you and crying about how i cannot recreate the sound of your voice with any combination of hollowly clicking keys. you are so beautiful that i could spend the remainder of my life with a five-subject notebook, scrawling 'your eyes. your smile. your hands. your voice' over and over endlessly and die feeling as though i had lived a thousand years of quiet adventure. you are so much and too much for me and i have no idea why you see as much in me as you do but i will not question it, for fear that if i were to come too close to you, to run my fingers along the marvel of your face you would shrivel and unfurl into nonexistence, like the leaf in the fire." and also: "why can't your voice always sound like this?" and finally: ******* you're attractive"
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13
Rue thy feeble fate. Fear the day when thine own eyes Fail to see beyond thy hand. Requiem for the rest-easies such as Thyself shall not come as welcome Praise, but as fire and brimstone, Blood from the grimy grindstones of The weary working, ready to rise And crush all unworthy opposition With their hilts of red-hot rage, Raising swords of liberty to the heavens and cutting down the opression that has stilted their air. Weep for this is thy fate: Thy death means justice for those who Have been defeated countless times, Under a blooming, burning sky defeats Pile up like stars, simmering, waiting to Become supernovas and take every puny Universe down in their own glorious Descent, like Icarus to the sun, a sweeter fall could not Exist on this lonely planet, Into the unforgiving waters of victory. Justice for those angry folk who by merit Have earned their own place, not by Some system that hands it to them, but By grit and toil alone, By the fierce madness that is Existing and not completely Giving in to the ruin of being human, Following the words that A wiser man than I spoke, that life is Struggle, that the only constant in this Life is the pain that all of us try to ignore In the futile attempt to block out the Tragedies that haunt us daily. Face thy fears, coward. Thou miserable wretch can't look thyself In the mirror, but can claim that we as a Species have hope for peace on Earth and Goodwill for all. What dost thou know of goodwill? When didst thou give a single moment of thought to the happiness of anyone but thyself and thine selfish  avaricious interests? Thou shan't claim to know what is holy and just, yet scourge the very pious people that thou imitates; thou shan't slaughter the devout on a temple whose bricks are molded from hypocrisy and deceit. Rue thy feeble fate, Because thou deserveth every blow, every cry of mockery, every disgusted eye and every hideous pitiful moan that thy gravestone will inspire, and even Dante himself could not have imagined the flaming of the hellish unredeeming pyre that will be thy afterlife; rue thy fate for no morals, no intercessions, no pleas or entreaties to be spared from the filth and maggotry that thou hast built thy very house upon canst save thee now.
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Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 4:17 PM UTC
reckoning
Rue thy feeble fate. Fear the day when thine own eyes Fail to see beyond thy hand. Requiem for the rest-easies such as Thyself shall not come as welcome Praise, but as fire and brimstone, Blood from the grimy grindstones of The weary working, ready to rise And crush all unworthy opposition With their hilts of red-hot rage, Raising swords of liberty to the heavens and cutting down the opression that has stilted their air. Weep for this is thy fate: Thy death means justice for those who Have been defeated countless times, Under a blooming, burning sky defeats Pile up like stars, simmering, waiting to Become supernovas and take every puny Universe down in their own glorious Descent, like Icarus to the sun, a sweeter fall could not Exist on this lonely planet, Into the unforgiving waters of victory. Justice for those angry folk who by merit Have earned their own place, not by Some system that hands it to them, but By grit and toil alone, By the fierce madness that is Existing and not completely Giving in to the ruin of being human, Following the words that A wiser man than I spoke, that life is Struggle, that the only constant in this Life is the pain that all of us try to ignore In the futile attempt to block out the Tragedies that haunt us daily. Face thy fears, coward. Thou miserable wretch can't look thyself In the mirror, but can claim that we as a Species have hope for peace on Earth and Goodwill for all. What dost thou know of goodwill? When didst thou give a single moment of thought to the happiness of anyone but thyself and thine selfish  avaricious interests? Thou shan't claim to know what is holy and just, yet scourge the very pious people that thou imitates; thou shan't slaughter the devout on a temple whose bricks are molded from hypocrisy and deceit. Rue thy feeble fate, Because thou deserveth every blow, every cry of mockery, every disgusted eye and every hideous pitiful moan that thy gravestone will inspire, and even Dante himself could not have imagined the flaming of the hellish unredeeming pyre that will be thy afterlife; rue thy fate for no morals, no intercessions, no pleas or entreaties to be spared from the filth and maggotry that thou hast built thy very house upon canst save thee now.
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27
An entire lifetime remembered In a solitary fragment of blood Supernovas explode in the blackness of our eyes I can see your androgynous ****** form Sitting in wicker chairs Juggling martinis and cigarettes Dressed in Homecoming White With a penchant for persecution We’re choking on chlorine And leisurely drowning in anonymity Still the daydreams of my consequences linger on
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Sep 11, 2011
Sep 11, 2011 at 2:03 PM UTC
Eidetic Memory
If only my dreams About dreaming Could instruct My seemingly green Concept Of luck I could Interrupt My seemingly just Cycle of lust Say -Giddy-up, Buttercup You want to Get ***** **** Mike, It's only 5:30. That's ok, Just tryin to Be flirty, To make ok The fact that You'll hurt me, To make passe The fact that My birdy Flew away And tried to Lure me To fly beside her But that's behind me Besides, She tried To cure me But my wings Were paper, They broke Prematurely So I fell Like disorderly Swells Of frequencies I yelled pink noise I could barely See, Passing for Currency Passing in Front of me Passing for Apathy; Apathetic empathy Or sympathetic Tragedy For such pathetic Entities Who knows? Who wants to be One who knows, To know Eventually We all fall, Plummet Suddenly Into Black holes Of imperfect Symmetry, We will enter Simultaneously So I'll see you Instantly On the other End of this Wormhole's Energy, Baby b, So until then Plant a Tree all Gold and Green And name It 3 Then climb That **** And look For me, I'll be Lying Right where You ******* Left Me Singing For clarity, With Only Echoes Returning Eternally.
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Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 1:09 AM UTC
--Sleeping Through Supernovas--
eyes like supernovas and just as stellar your eyes were my favorite constellations your pupils orbit your view of the world slightly dilating when you see someone you love I hope they dilate when you see me I never owned a telescope but looking into your eyes was the closest thing galaxies kissed your lips and wanted to stay so they painted themself in your mind, keeping vibrant and brilliant forms of stars each thought connecting the dots, forming orion’s belt and your fingertips traced euphoria in the form of the big dipper and the little dipper was the curve of your arms where I would rest my head sometime soon and soon I will look into those bright eyes and I will feel at home in saturns rings which were outlined in your irises and you’ll look into mine and our sets of planet-like pupils will expand into blackholes
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Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 10:38 PM UTC
Stars and other metaphors
Maybe people like us shouldn't be together the outcome of a love so strong could possibly be the cause of supernovas & our heartbreaks the result of black holes
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Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 4:35 AM UTC
Cataclysmic love
If my freckles are stars that make up my galaxy Then are my eyes supernovas black holes that have pulled you into my universe and decided not to let you go
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Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 12:37 PM UTC
Star Gazing
... Ͽ *I'm witnessing the night erupt in celestial warfare; Galaxies upon the fleeting edge of collapse. Constellations rise as warriors Planets fall as if they were empires Shooting stars committing suicide Eclipses; full-fledged victims of ****** Toxic comets threaten disaster Supernovas; spells of death Starlight diminished by the savages; Nebula messages slaughter hope. This is a massacre of our milky way~ Our universe; a brilliant display of a civil war.* Ͼ Goodnight. ...
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Oct 11, 2015
Oct 11, 2015 at 5:40 PM UTC
Night's Myth
As I stare at the face in the mirror I think It would look good through the window of a casket where time and decay can touch it away from peering eyes when all the thoughts are               what she could have been                                             what she was and not                                                                what she failed to be So many have sealed their fates as legends by dying young Like fireworks that fly high and burst as the crowd ooohs and ahhhs I don't want to be the stars hung forever burning burning until everyone forgets their beauty for in a crowd of white dwarfs so few become supernovas and there is always the risk of becoming a self-destructive drag others down with you black hole.
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Oct 19, 2011
Oct 19, 2011 at 4:07 AM UTC
teenage dream
there are heaps of clothes on my bedroom floor but none of them are yours and my mind is traveling horrifying distances to a place here you stretch yourself over me like skin does to our bones i want you to crawl inside of me and live in my ribcage i want you to taste the daylight in me to take all of my darkness away until we reach a hot, incandescent point of no return the astronomy of our bodies contains supernovas when we collide touch me and i'll burn without you my fragmented and lifeless heart resembles dying stars i will be as beautiful in my own descent so you can make a wish on me
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Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 11:58 AM UTC
astronomy
I. Realize that everything is temporary-including your happiness, including your sadness. II. Sit down at a table for two and realize your heart is big enough to fill up both seats. III. Cry out with the rain enough tears to fill an ocean and teach yourself how to swim. IV. Scream their name into the wind until the wind itself decides to take it away. V. Begin watching supernovas. Realize how beautiful something can be even when it has been dead for years. VI. Look in the history books. Realize that even the best love stories all had to come to an end. VII. Realize that surviving heartbreak is not as clean cut as a mathematical equation. It is a messy art.
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Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 3:59 AM UTC
How To Survive Heartbreak
Women can be men Men can be women People can be people We didn’t write the feeling... Stars can be supernovas Meaning can be mending And paintings can bend And walls can return... And shapes of architecture become earth Lovers can be lovers Leavers can believe us Lights, camera, action, order, disorder Dysphoria, euphoria Academia, abracadabra The moon, *** sun and laughter Instantaneousness Osmosis Fear, friction, distance, pure bliss Bubble toting aqua world Top this... Freedom, collaboration Emancipation, cognification Celebration... Millenniums of us saving, changing... What we actually are eventually... One surging sway of soul-light soldered angels Morphing from an oceanic abyss…
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Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 6:59 PM UTC
Spacelings
I looked at you as if you had put the stars in the sky You noticed me, too I was your complex galaxy The moon looked down on us two and was saddened by the tragedy We were supernovas shining brightest after our end But our beauty didn't make up for the explosion that shattered me.
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Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 6:07 PM UTC
Supernovas
There was something heartbreaking in his gaze. Looking into his eyes Was like watching every good and perfect thing in this world Shatter. It was as though All the stars had fallen out of the sky And splintered into glittering fragments all over the ground. It was as though The sun and the moon had collided, Raining shining pieces all over the earth. Looking into his eyes, I felt my very being Shattering, Being pulled asunder by his loneliness. And it was exciting. I felt my heart quicken, Pounding fast with the prospect Of watching the world end over And over again. I knew this was the kind of loneliness That gnawed at the world from its foundations, Prowling like an un-mourned soul And, in its brooding solitude, Whipped up the howling winds that keep children up at night. In all my sun-drenched life, I had never seen a darker being. I had never been this intoxicated by a mere gaze. I had never known a bitterness so strong. My world was all sweet harvests and smiling flowers, But when he touched me, It felt as though I'd stuffed my mouth with dandelion greens. My taste buds protested but my body thrilled, Reveling in his Armageddon eyes. His fingertips were ice, Trailing down my goose-pimpled skin, And I knew I was the first hot-blooded woman he'd held. I wanted to add fire to his shattered soul. I wanted to watch the fragments of the world Smoldering when he looked at me. I wanted to feel his fierce loneliness grab me by the hair And set my heart aflame. And he did. As I watched the heavens colliding, I offered all the heat of my veins, And he drank it in like the gods guzzle nectar. He slipped his arm around my waist And ferried me across the River Styx. So I watched the world end, One soul after the other, Cooling slowly from revelry To bitterness As he burned with borrowed flames. I dreamed about supernovas, Stars exploding out of the sky. I'd been so quick to trade sunshine for his eternal night, Never considering that I'd be getting nothing in return. I wondered if my gaze had begun to shatter.
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Nov 27, 2010
Nov 27, 2010 at 6:48 PM UTC
Persephone
There was something heartbreaking in his gaze. Looking into his eyes Was like watching every good and perfect thing in this world Shatter. It was as though All the stars had fallen out of the sky And splintered into glittering fragments all over the ground. It was as though The sun and the moon had collided, Raining shining pieces all over the earth. Looking into his eyes, I felt my very being Shattering, Being pulled asunder by his loneliness. And it was exciting. I felt my heart quicken, Pounding fast with the prospect Of watching the world end over And over again. I knew this was the kind of loneliness That gnawed at the world from its foundations, Prowling like an un-mourned soul And, in its brooding solitude, Whipped up the howling winds that keep children up at night. In all my sun-drenched life, I had never seen a darker being. I had never been this intoxicated by a mere gaze. I had never known a bitterness so strong. My world was all sweet harvests and smiling flowers, But when he touched me, It felt as though I'd stuffed my mouth with dandelion greens. My taste buds protested but my body thrilled, Reveling in his Armageddon eyes. His fingertips were ice, Trailing down my goose-pimpled skin, And I knew I was the first hot-blooded woman he'd held. I wanted to add fire to his shattered soul. I wanted to watch the fragments of the world Smoldering when he looked at me. I wanted to feel his fierce loneliness grab me by the hair And set my heart aflame. And he did. As I watched the heavens colliding, I offered all the heat of my veins, And he drank it in like the gods guzzle nectar. He slipped his arm around my waist And ferried me across the River Styx. So I watched the world end, One soul after the other, Cooling slowly from revelry To bitterness As he burned with borrowed flames. I dreamed about supernovas, Stars exploding out of the sky. I'd been so quick to trade sunshine for his eternal night, Never considering that I'd be getting nothing in return. I wondered if my gaze had begun to shatter.
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57
I do not look at the stars and think of the immensity of the universe. I see them as quiet selfless guardians, the kind sisters I always wanted. I am their sister, their daughter. With eyes like a lunar eclipse, I stare at them and say "did you see that?" As though the occurrences of my night were their equivalent of a shooting star. I hope they see all my smiles the size of galaxies, Where my dimples have their own gravitational pull. I hope they smile at the boys I show them And remark about similar he looks to their dear friend, the man in the moon. I hope they see the supernovas these boys inspire. And I hope they see when my tears fall like meteors, Leaving comet trails on my cheeks, Or when I feel like there's a black hole developing in my chest When my supernovas start to collapse. I tell them the tales that they will connect into my constellations, They will tell each other the stories that are the reasons for my shapes. I do not look at the stars and think of the immensity of the universe. I look at the stars and hope they are amazed by my personal immense universe.
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Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 10:05 PM UTC
The Opinions of Stars
I love you so much when you cry; my eyes follow the glistening stream winding saccharine from your widened eyes, eyelids batting, begging for a home run to chase the pain away. Tears refract the light and you are a pool of rainbows shimmering in the ripples that my gauze thumbs make but the stitching is too l  o   o   s   e to hide all of the tears. My lips sojourn at your kopje nose before prowling at the edge of the watering hole , sunset draped across your cheeks and fading fast as moist night settles. This close, so close, lashes like willow limbs and dripping dregs of whisper rain as our eyes, behind ocean veil, exchange supernovas bursting wide enough to collapse into black holes.
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Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 7:54 PM UTC
I Can't Build Dams
you fall like umbilical cords for the purpose of befriending bacteria at the site of your bloated corpse collection. the way you make me vibrate is a witch trial, my talismans shaking as i grasp the embryonic roots. do you know what kind of flora we found in the red maple swamp today? do you wrap around the left horn of dionysus? there is a space between your lips, not the upper, not the lower, but the plane at which they meet. this is where i want to stir my cauldron, this is what i want to bathe in poison. water bearer! do not bring me indica, do not bring me purple orchids, i am only pleased by small mammals writhing from the corners of your fangs (a secret that can only be sealed sanguinarily). and now tell me: when your veins turn like supernovas, when your minions dance for you in throngs, do you exhale the debris? do you eat the coral berries? do you remember when we hunted that mammoth in full cryogene, in full rhapsody? i held you at the sun's eclipse as time slid by like timid snakes.
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Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 1:43 AM UTC
when one body exerts a force on a second body, the second body simultaneously exerts a force equal in magnitude and opposite in direction to that of the first body