Poetry? Hm, I'll contribute too.
This is an old poem, pretty darkish. My style has changed since then, but oh well.
The fairies' song
It’s been
several years
since the fairies sang
the lament of the rain
under a shivering sun
-dull, dirty yellow-
Several weeks
since he last saw the sparrow’s dance
on my heartbeat
-and a bloom,
any bloom except for those ghastly guardians of white marble-
Several moments
since the thick, black cold
since the eyelid closure
since the raw fear
the regret
since the smudge on my face-
and then rain
again.
But the fairies,
those sly, little creatures,
are tired of singing
anymore.