Once Somebody's Daughter

She has loved me, for the last two-thirds of my life,
in a different way,
which I'm supposed to understand --
but which I don't.
I must be missing a portion of the script.
When she left him,
it went from "what was" in all its rich detail
to a sassy present moment
devoid of the past that included me.
It broke my brain
to have been loved with respect and devotion,
only to become like a forgotten knick-knack.
A shock it's been, every time,
to be addressed, upon the slightest whim,

casually, carelessly, angrily, coyly,
as though to a mistrusted peer.