Any opinions/critique on this would be helpful. This is the first "poem" I have ever written. I mean alot of my songs could be poems but i've never started writing with the intention of poetry before.
The texture of everything, skin and wood
from touching glove hands to bearing books
And I can feel, so short, so sweet
relief of minds which overheat
Hands which linger around a waist
a silent stroke, a lustful taste
In our arms, we are displeased
we lack protection, shaking knees
We're over, come and compensate
7 days too long to wait
With fingers out and fingers in
a sudden urge in ashy dim
light and fire, heads and bone
softly spoken words of stone