One Shots [PHAN]

Of Written Feelings and Words with Meaning

So I got this story from Tumblr  and I love it very much so yep enjoy :) creds to the writer's amazing skillz

Link - http://thephandemonium.tumblr.com/post/136314429681/of-written-feelings-and-words-with-meaning

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"his laugh was a work of magic

filling my lungs with fresh air

he brought colour to a life so tragic

and held a heart with utmost care

yet he was a hero who didn't know he was one

a knight saving people he couldn't see

i would gladly give him the sun

even if he wouldn't know it was me

oh what a cruel god rules my life

i write for a man who doesn't know

and despite it, i hold unto the knife

cause i've planted a seed that has grown

so, i sit back and watch him live

because many say we met through fate

and bit by bit my heart i give

although i won't get it back, 'till kingdom come i'll wait"

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Dan's eyes were focused on the addicting blue of the screen (he could think of a blue that looked much better than that), scrolling mindlessly, occasionally breathing out through his nose as a desperate attempt of a laugh when he came across the poem. With text posts, he'd normally read it then just scroll on. However, this one managed to hold him captive, a whisper of his mind told him to pay it more attention.

And so he did.

The brunet clicked on the poem's original poster. Immediately, he was greeted by a monochrome theme with the title Words Written with Feeling in Search of a Meaning and he must admit, it took a while for his sleep-deprived mind to understand it.

For hours, Dan read this writer's words. From what he could gather, the writer was a man and most of what he's written was so tragically beautiful. His way with words was astonishing. They made you feel as if you were the one who felt his emotions.

Granted, most of his writing was in first person but despite that, the way he described his thoughts danced on the line of vague and descriptive. It was symbolic. His words made you think of their meaning enough to get a grasp on the complications that were his feelings.

Besides, he found it ironic that the blog was monochrome for the words of the writer were so colourful. Iridescent hues lacing between the curves of every letter. Splashes of colour highlighting every word.

Oh dear. I've been reading his work for too long.

Writer (as Dan now opted to call him) brought chills up his spine. No, it wasn't because of how unforgivably cold London was at this time. No, it wasn't because the sun was rising (Dammit, it's six in the morning.) and he's pulled another all-nighter. The cause of it was that Writer's words hit a bit too close to home.

Dan closed his eyes for a moment. He let the lack of sleep wash over him like a tidal wave, suddenly feeling the need to sink into the cocoon of pillows and a duvet that he's made. He let his thoughts wash over him, too. A numbing drug that silenced the noises that were beginning to fill up his world.