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As I rub the shiny satin finish, I think of all the moments spent sitting on this park bench, remembering how my naïve young eyes were blinded by the mask of love. I close these eyes that have their scars. The pain has become much dimmer; yet the affair we had remains so clear. The two of us sat here together holding hands and cuddling close. This park bench is our private landmark one that I will never be able to let go of. He and I etched our hearts into the wood sealing our heartache over the oak stain. A park bench that began and ended with us. Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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