Theme

Display Mature Content

Suppress AI Content

literature

Masquerade

Deviation Actions

HeadmistressMercedes

Published: Jan 31, 2014

539 Views

Literature Text

In her new satin gowns, she drowns.

A sad and shattered heart bound tight with nothing but
creamy lace and silver buttons.

Playing dress-up with the damned.

on en revient toujours aux roses

calileane

$1.00

Download

More by HeadmistressMercedes

Literature

Forest Foundling

If I were to carve out my heart and leave it in the woods, would the woods want to keep it for me? Under a leafy canopy, in the shade of an elm, amidst all this stately grace and silent space, would a bloody piece of pain still beat and attract attention? How would a pounding drum be heard through the vast and stable forest? Would songbirds scatter? Foxes flee? Would even bears be chased off by such a keen wailing of spirit and spite? And me, walking down the mulchy road... would I stop and listen? Could I bear to ignore the rhythm of my desires that were planted like acorns in my soul? How could a man with such a green thumb grow suc

Recommended Literature

Literature

wishes

i am not a flower, if you tear out a piece of me, stomp it halfway between cracks in the sidewalk, it will only die. but our lips fit together perfectly, like all the broken pieces. [maybe it was just a dream.]

Literature

Sense Memory

I developed taste. We lost touch.

Literature

Four of a Kind (Confessions of a King).

I am The upward curl Of her mouth, The smile she wears When she has no doubt That what she sees Is true. I am all her cares. I am the glimmer In her eyes - All she sees Because I leave her blind. I am the polluted oxygen She thrives off of - The very same toxicity Coursing through her veins, Merely a harlequin Who increases her pains. I am the king Of her body, Of her heart. I am all that she values And I value all that She has to lose. I am the fall Before the pain, The slow dancing Of the dying leaves In a season Without the rain. I am the largest planet In her universe, Maybe not her sun But I am the only one Her earth Revolves around. I

Suggested Collections

Poetry

Literature

surgeries

we have deforested ourselves. we have made scratches into flesh wounds into scabs into surgeries without sutures, black & bold & too pale, not red enough- not the wet it should be. we have bled ourselves dry. why did you mutter like you did, why take up all that airspace with your meaningless moans & screams when you could have asked for what you wanted? we have language. use your words. paint a picture for me: “I want to be dead. I want to be full no matter the cost. I am empty, & pain may be the only way to become whole.”

Literature

Waves in ruin

Waves in Ruin Weather calming The day full of wondering Where the tide is pondering Cold breeze breaks the chill Sunshine breaks the shrill The sound of rain surreal Darkness travels far Keeping time on par Weighing heavy on a distant star On jester calamity The talons of broken wings Cling upon the acts of humanity By Enigmatic

Literature

a beautiful haunting

I traveled through time today at a sublime art museum I had forgotten how huge yet intimate those spaces are within the near-silence of the marble-floored galleries there is a beautiful atmosphere of quiet energy- which is a synergistic summation of my own presence; the gentle hushed flux of fellow patrons; the dignified yet welcoming austerity of immense cathedral-ceilinged galleries; last but never least the priceless collection of storied lives- culled from such disparate locales as the once-mighty Holy Roman Empire, and Early Twentieth Century Manhattan rich oils masterfully applied precious dyes expertly rendere

Stories and Poems

Literature

My Life Story Isn't A Poem

This is what it feels like to crumble down in a blazing squall. You are muffled gunshots wrecking yourself in high speed collision with his brass armor. You compress every eruption by choking ashes and swallowing shatter glasses because god forbid you are a frostbitten girl with hitched breath and messed up mascara and god forbid you are explosive and god forbid you crumble down because no, you are an inspiration and you are clenched fist and sculpted chest, you are concrete and you are statue, you are the ice cold dusk and YOU DON

Literature

Why Books Suck

Let me write you a story of all you want to hear. Of intercourse and romance, drugs and beer. Of simple plots and story devices, where no thinking is required. I'll even make it into a series, everything you've desired. Pick it up in the middle, why not? It's all the same. So-and-so get together, there's sex on every page. It's the best story in the world, and it only took me six days! Don't worry about morals, there's none to be learned. If you hate life-long lessons, then enjoy every word. The characters are flat with the basic of descriptions, with no voice of their own. If one dies, no tears will be shed, there's another just arou

Literature

to the woman who drowned herself in the bathtub.

i. to the woman who drowned herself in the bathtub: in the magazine I own that published your story, they blurred out the crime scene photographs, erasing your face and the full curves of your breasts. some part of me wonders if you would have wanted this, or if you would have liked for the public to see you in your final moments, half-soaked in grey-looking water, your hair in strings, glued to the porcelain, eyes closed and mouth gaping, no breath stirring, no bubbles rising. ii. sometimes when I look into the depths of my bathroom sink, I hear your voice (or what I imagine it to be-- after all, we never met). you sit on the edge

Poetry

Literature

A Letter For A Deceased Mother

Dear Mother, A glance at my calendar, much to my distress, right now these feelings, I must confess. It's Mother's Day once again and my heart is filled with sorrow, that may never mend. I'm trying to make it through today without tears this year, just like all the rest of the years. I sit here to dwell and morn with what once was had, has now been forever torn. This day never ceases to remind me how I'm without and fills me with an overflowing doubt. Makes me regret how little the days with you were spent and I ponder where all those precious memories could have went. If only I knew back then what I know now and my life, the knowledge,

Literature

Family Tree

If we're tied together by blood then I'm anemic Coughing up the words I swallowed for years like I'm bulimic The bird still bears the stumps where you severed off its wings I bet you'd chop down a tree just to count all its rings If you keep breaking branches you don't think belong There will be nothing left for you to cling on Have fun falling to your death

Literature

epitaph

the girl i did not run over looks at me with eyes that say that i am part of the problem, when i could have been her solution, looks at me like she’s blaming me for swerving away, like she’s measured every one of her steps from her door to the curb, and i am the one thing she failed to account for. i almost double back to try and tell her all the same things that i have been told but i do not. her feet are too heavy, by now. her stomach too hollow. she does not need more empty words to swallow, she does not need stop signs or yield signs or ‘for the love of god think of everyone you are leaving behind’ signs. i do no

Featured in Groups

More by HeadmistressMercedes

HeadmistressMercedes on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/headmistressmercedes/art/Unlocked-212489633HeadmistressMercedes

HeadmistressMercedes on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/headmistressmercedes/art/Fine-Lines-509067228HeadmistressMercedes

HeadmistressMercedes on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/headmistressmercedes/art/Blushing-in-Blackness-385434461HeadmistressMercedes

HeadmistressMercedes on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/headmistressmercedes/art/Ruby-Red-381894074HeadmistressMercedes

Hide the pieces of a broken heart amidst the splendor of velvet and silk to soak up the blood.

A little something I just thought up right now. Nothing much. Just kinda...did.

Comments and critiques are always very much adored.

Comments26

Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In

The-Lost-Hope

Feb 7, 2014

This brings to mind both women of olden times with tight corsets and saddening happening as well as modern ones you dream of being princesses. Well said.

DeviantArt - Homepage

DeviantArt Facebook DeviantArt Instagram DeviantArt Twitter

About Contact Core Membership DeviantArt Protect

Developers Advertise Terms of Service Etiquette

Careers Privacy Policy Copyright Policy Help and FAQ

Watch Team and join our Community Group for the latest updates and activities.

Join Community