discarded poem = more poetry

virgin snow!
(you know once before,
years ago,
in a time forgotten until i uttered those immortal words -
virgin snow -
I wrote a piece,
for the current snow queen,
about virgin snow.
her lips were the virgin snow,
that I wanted to bite -
my bite the first bite,
like the first step on the virgin snow.

and it was romantic and it was charming and it was everything.
it has everything to do with virgin snow,
because they both go.
there has never been a virgin snow like this before
or the one before i referenced.
and there is nothing, nothing.
once touched it is no longer virgin.
the virgin snow i wrote about before has long gone,
and the meaning too - it has disappeared,
like the first crunch.)
so now?

well, my virgin snow now
is fresh and concrete and delicious.
yes it'll melt and go
but the times that it exists -
and let me tell you,
i have seen,
have been outside today and theres so much more virgin snow,
so much more of it that you can ever think.
and whilst it all exists well, this is where our story unfolds
and like virgin snow we are new and fresh
awaiting that first bite,
that first crunch,
to see where we will go.

hey remember the time I was dragging that horse around, and me and X were burying it in the ground - i.e. using Florence and the Machine to describe how I could leave the past behind now I had found her? Hey and do you remember that time I saw Y and it wasn't at all like how it should have been and X got cross because I lied a little bit? and when Z was new again after once being old? I did it again, up there. There's A in that poem. and maybe you can say 'B! don't be like this! you've done nothing wrong, OUR EYES ALWAYS MOVE' - which is what I say to myself - but the fact of the matter is, my theories (which I developed because of A, actually, in 2009, 2010, whenever) will always, always be true. past/present/future.