Likeness

[ISawASpaceship]

This is poetry, not a new quantum theory of gravitation, so there is no need for excessive cleverness. And in fact, using vague symbols is the easiest thing to do. I could write a poem about a talking apple that is actually my internal trauma personified. It wouldn’t be worthwhile to waste the reader’s time with it.
The reader is not interested in the secret language of your mind. A shrink might be, if you pay good money. A reader is only interested in something that resonates with him. To do that, you need to craft the poem better and make it more accessible, otherwise it’s a journal entry for yourself.
So even if the sheets and the window were your defence mechanism and your inner dreams of a better life, you can tie all that up in a more interesting, artistic way for the reader. That’s what’s missing.

Actually it was written to be sentimental towards a person that I know would enjoy the imagery and I thought it would be fairly obvious after stating that all of these things felt like me. Especially, since a window and a mirror cannot feel like silk. I feel that the context of me sending it to Westley is important. 
Man, hand, eyes.

Hey Spaceship. I just wanted to affirm that Busker's advice on this poem is invaluable if you're looking to improve your poetry and process. So many of us start out imagining that our private jokes might pass as metaphor. Myself included. Hard lessons are how we move on from journal scratchings to a semblance of actual poetry. Thanks for the reminder, Busker.

I find the idea of "actual poetry" to be humorous. There is an audience for everything and everyone has an opinion like everyone has a nose. One may say that metaphor is not needed here. Another may say that to liken a lover to a blanket to show security and comfort shows sentimentality. That same person might enjoy the picture of a mirror as a hand because it implies that the mirror  is the same as the woman, implying that the likeness between the two is like looking at one's reflection. That same reader might also like the picture of a woman looking into the eyes of the man she loves and seeing that those eyes are now soft, the image of a window meaning she can see into him. What is poetry if it is not made with feeling? Dribble that is agonizingly churned out for the masses. Now, your opinion is valid but I simply disagree. To each their own.  And you might want to be careful. Poe might roll over in his grave one day and spring forth from the dirt if you should imply that metaphor in poetry is not real poetry.