Three sad Sundays

Three sad Sundays
I never lived them, I have known get to advantage
To the life and in every stumble
a support, I get up

Three sad Sundays
They made themselves unforgettable
They challenged my sapience
were disordered
They appeared and I lived them

Three sad Sundays
has made of me,
Silent, meticulous,
a thinking being
able to measure...

Three sad Sundays
hidden
Tapiado, caught
Deprived of being free
With you and without you.

Three sad Sundays
They were like that, three and sad
They will be the first three
Or the only three, does not matter
but the saddest
is that they were three,
followed and overwhelming

Three sad Sundays
They are different but sad,
Overwhelming of the soul,
Full of life but sad.
None like the third,
Apart from sad without your kisses,
Without the uncontrollability of having you
touch you and even dream to love you,
Sad, but this the certainty
Not to pass another one plus
Hidden in the shadows
Of the justice.

So sad, that if I do not cry
It rains and it does not stop
Sadness and grief
Rain and tears.

So much that I did not want you and you showed up,
You infringed my individuality,
My desire not have you, nor to see you,
You came, I did not want you

Why?

I did not expect you, implacable,
You ruined this mind,
You were able and unforgettable,
You challenged my tranquility
I hope now you are the last
And do not torment my peace.

... Fourth sad Sunday

The separator 1 was an image taken from pixabay direct link and edited by me in Adobe Photoshop Cs6, the color separator was taken from the pixaba gallery click here