Burned 16″ x 20″ Acrylic on Canvas




16″ x 20″
Acrylic on Canvas

I would in no means consider this piece fine art but merely pure emotion expressed onto a canvas.

Never in my life had I seen someone look at me so coldly, so darkly, so guarded as he did that day. The day where he walked away. It was Friday July 24th 2015 and we were in a parking lot, a storm rolling in over our heads. I didn’t mean to run into him, it was one of those things that happened by chance. But once I saw him, my feet couldn’t move. I couldn’t leave. I had to speak to him. Part of me wishes I hadn’t. Another part of me knows that it had to happen. That was the day I got my closure, the very end of my first love affair. I was wearing all white. He was wearing all black. It couldn’t have been any clearer.

I had fallen in love with his eyes long before we were together. They are a cascade of browns that wind their way into golds. His irises are dark at the edges, almost black that slowly fade into a honey in the middle. Still to this day, I have never met someone with more soulful brown eyes than he. When he looked at me that fateful Friday, they were not the eyes I had fallen in love with. They were as stormy and tumultuous as the sky overhead.

I couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t that cute, slight anxiety of seeing someone you care for and losing your breath for a moment because of how intense your love is for them. It was more like when he looked at me with near pitch black eyes, it felt like I was hit in the chest with a moving truck. The light was gone in his eyes, the spark. My love for him dimmed to a flicker and I knew that I was the only reason he was looking at me like that. Like I was hell set loose on earth, the queen of hurt, the girl that wouldn’t leave him alone, that had to keep coming back for one more hit, over and over again. I was torture and he was through. I saw it in his eyes.

I shouldn’t have stayed. When I saw him, I should have walked away. But I didn’t. I wanted to talk to him but there was nothing to say. I wanted to hear his voice but he barely uttered a few words to me. I was not worth his time nor energy and to be frank, I don’t blame him.

He went one way and I went the exact other direction.

For the first time, I didn’t cry. I simply had no tears left in me. I had been crying over him for months. This last, bitter encounter was the soldering iron that zipped up the last of my wounds and seared them shut. It hurt. No. It didn’t hurt. It set my veins on fire, every part of me pulsed with the intensity of three hundred and fifteen burning furnaces. I was not angry. Strangely enough, I was calm. Calmer than I had been in months. Everything was in extreme clarity. I saw straight, every sound was penetrating and meaningful. Every motion was slow and fast. Every person was a story that at the moment I cared not a damn thing for. I felt everything and nothing. I was all. For about six seconds, I saw everything truer than ever before.

I saw this image in my mind’s eye like a lightning bolt zapping across the sky. A flash and it was gone. But that’s all it took. It ignited my heart, my hands began to shake with the need to express this emotion and within the next twenty four hours I had finished this piece.

There’s not much left to say to him or about us except: be careful, tender heart, don’t touch the ones that burn.

Released: Monday August 24th 2015

~L’ren Knorr

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