Crimson Regrets

I spotted a jacket, deep crimson and soft,

a promise of warmth, though I stood there aloft.

Its velvet caress called to shadows inside,

reminding me gently of warmth I’d denied.

I hesitated, touched it—silken dreams in my palm,

a piece of nostalgia that felt strangely calm.

Yet comfort, it seemed, held an echo of past,

as the memories whispered, “You’ll not make it last.”

The layers of velvet felt sweet on my skin,

but the weight of its softness brought memories in.

I left it behind, a regret that I feel,

a piece of my heart that was lovely yet real.