Yesterday was Mother's Day

You.
You are not the person I remember you as.
I look at you now through the eyes of another, one who has missed out on your glory, your flame, your spark.
You are a forlorn leaf.
Settling into your life now, or what you imagine is the way it will end up.
You fall upon little things, forgetting to look up and away from your scraped knees.
Did you know that you used to be God-like?
You once were a super hero whom I studied and watched and I found nothing wrong with you.
You influenced every core of my being: my cuckold knowledge, my efforts to balance out your outspoken & 0-10 anger, your fiesty, bandit nature.
Instead of mimicking, I often compensated with muteness or apologies.
I was afraid of the kind of thing you would pull.
So I chose a quieter tone of voice.
And now you have chosen to do the same, many years later. You've lost that blindness when you're in a room full of company, known and unknown.
Who was it opened your eyes?
Is it me you are copying?
Have you learned that it doesn't help to scream and shriek?
And yet it is still so hard for you to say the quiet things like "thank you."
Where have you gone? And what have you done with the pieces I loved so well?