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I hope you know that I named that highway after you.

So that anyone who is lucky enough to bruise the pavement with their tires will know that the most beautiful girl in the universe once walked these roads. What a privilege it is, to be in a place that has seen your grace.

But they will never know. They will only see the road as black and the sky as blue, but I know that the clouds are cotton candy and the pavement is a dancefloor for wandering souls because you said it was, and so that's what it will be.

Your smile is in that horizon and your laughter plays through the speakers when your favorite song comes on. I smile, but the sound of my engine is like a knife digging into my heart. I look at the empty seat next to me and my eyes fill with tears. I don't know how I'm supposed to go on, haunted by the ghost of you.

The highway is long and winding, and the speed limit is just fast enough to take the breath out of my lungs the way your smile used to. I drive it often, at night to remember the last time I held you. The night the road became ravenous and the terror of the night came out to witness. Even though the blood stained your skin you were still beautiful. Even in the face of death you shone like the sun. Women like you don't deserve any pain, and darling would have taken it all away with a kiss of your forehead if I possessed the strength. The sirens screamed in tragedy, and the lights flashed like the end a film with a terrible ending.

I fly down that highway, screaming at the stars for daring to shine on a world without you. My foot weighs heavy on the pedal and tears wet my eyes, and for a moment I believe I have found the strength to do it. To replay that night by myself and switch the script. But then the part of you that still lives in my heart tells me not to ride along with you, and so I slow the car down and cry all my grief out to the road.

I used to be okay before you drove me insane.

But darling they can put me in an asylum because your love was worth it.

I look at your gravestone and clench my fists because I know you don't belong there. So instead I look up at the pine trees that grow frozen on the hilltops, and I pray that they will tell you that I am ready. I am ready to follow you, mindlessly, crazily, even though I don't know where.

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I'm almost at 1000 followers! so, I decided to write a story in response to one of my most successful short stories that I've posted on here. "the deadwood forest" and "heartbreak highway" are both about the same incident but told from the boy and girl's perspective. these laments are based on my interpretation of the songs the night we met & frozen pines by lord huron

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