Pop Poetry: When I Am Alone


Beau Romanowski, Staff Writer

There are only little details that I remember when I am alone

And I used to say this in a ways to describe myself but I now realized

That by saying it I have only invalidated myself and who I am


I would and do say

That I am a lot

That I am somehow more than 

and not in a way of confidence 

or stature 

or presence

But in a way of annoyance.


But I am starting a list of the things I used to hate about myself

And they are becoming a list of the things I love most


That I get loud when I’m excited 

That I get shy when I’m anxious and i 

Speak like this

All my birthmarks and skin discoloration, 

the different pigments that make up my hue.

The scars on my elbows and knees

Along with the little things my grandmother would teach me


“The white dots on your nail show up when you lie”

But now i know that they show up only when I think of you

Which is why I have them all the time.


She taught me how to love, and how to spread it with joy

When i would sit on her lap and we would sing Barney songs

You would think she might have been embarrassed

A 70 year old woman holding her last grandchild on her lap singing gently 

“I love you. You love me..”

But I hope my grandmother comes back to me as my daughter or grandchild so 

I can show her how much those moments mean to me looking back


And even as I sit crying now I only regret few things about her

    That I didn’t get to say goodbye

    That I didn’t get to tell her who I am, as if she would love me less.

    And that she didn’t get to meet the second love of my life

Because she was the first