Doldrums

[Wjames]

The tempest has finally weakened,
remnants of the storm lingering
in the open-air room. I don't know what you mean by "open-air room".

Hard flesh is kneaded to softness
as anger and doubt briefly yield
to tenderness and desire. The shift from your storm metaphor into a massage metaphor is very abrupt.

The proverbial calm returns too soon
and begins its cycle once more,
a stifling heat settling over bare skin. Heat seems a little too strong a word for calm to me, perhaps "a stifling warmth" might work better. Then again, warmth might be too weak to be stifling

They do not speak; they do not touch.
They simply lie in silence, waiting
for a favorable wind to blow.

I like the idea of using the double meaning of doldrums as the basis of a poem, but I found the poem a little too obscure for me to really get sucked in. I think there might be a little too much metaphor, and not enough story/structure for the metaphor to sit on (at least, for my liking). Hopefully this is of some use to you.