Cold Pennies

what regret tastes like when you still want to be chosen

I said I’d never seen Forrest Gump.
Thought I was being clever.
That kind of soft provocation that earns a smirk,
a playful punch,
a “God, you’re ridiculous” that means I like you anyway.

But the second it left my mouth,
the air folded in on itself.
And suddenly it wasn’t about a movie anymore —
it was about something heavier
I hadn’t meant to touch.

You looked at me and asked,
“Was that a joke or a white lie?”
And I said “oof.”
Which might as well have been
don’t make me be honest right now.

In the background, Adele was singing
“never mind, I’ll find someone like you”
and I swear it landed like a curse.
Like the universe was already rehearsing
how you'd walk away from a version of me
that didn’t know how to hold a moment
without letting it slip.

Because the truth is —
I knew exactly what you were asking.
It wasn’t about the film.
It was about the difference between
playing dumb
and being safe.

There was weight behind it.
Like maybe you’ve loved people
who left cracks in the story
just deep enough to fall through.
Like maybe you’ve had to claw your way
out of too many punchlines
that weren’t funny.

And maybe in that moment,
you needed to know
if I’d ever make you doubt what’s real.

I should’ve said I’m sorry.
But instead, I dropped the thread you handed me
like it wasn’t woven from your softness.
Like it didn’t matter.
Like you wouldn’t remember.

But I do.
And it sits in me
like cold pennies under my tongue.
That copper sting of almost —
almost being who you needed,
almost catching the meaning
before it slipped through my teeth.

You don’t ask for much.
Just clarity.
Just someone who doesn’t flinch
when the moment asks for more than charm.

And that’s what I want to be for you.
The one who doesn’t turn real into a joke.
The one who knows that even small things
can carry the weight of everything
you’ve ever had to question.

So this is me,
with Adele still echoing through the room,
her voice filling the places
I should’ve spoken into.
Letting the ache stretch wide —
telling you what I should’ve said that night:

I want to be the voice
you don’t have to doubt.
I want my words to land soft,
but true.

No games.
No blur.
Just me —
and this moment,
getting it right.

Because I’m not here for almost.
Not with you.

If you’re standing there
with your heart cracked open,
waiting for someone to step in
and stay —

let it be me.

// Scorpio Veil

no punchline. just the truth. finally.