Chalk

A few years ago, I was part of a small writing group and one day we all had to pick an item from a box and then write a little about it. I ended up with some snooker chalk...

You never think about me do you?  You just pick me up, screw me with your cue and then leave me on the corner of the table while you play your games. 

But what about me?

What about my needs?

Time after time you just knock me to the floor, kicking me around without a thought to the pain you cause me.

When was the last time you brought me somewhere nice, somewhere warm? You’d think you’d notice that I’m on the verge of frostbite, but nooooo, you don’t care, do you?

All I want is to be pampered, just once, but you won’t even buy me as much as a cheap moisturiser even though I’m so dry I leave bits of myself on your fingers. 

That’s when you bother to touch me at all and let’s face it, you hardly do that anymore unless it’s to pass me around your friends.

It’s because I’m old isn’t it? 

Because you’ve had me for so long. 

You take me for granted, assuming I’ll always be here and do what you want, when you want. 

Well let me tell you something, things are going to change around here. I’ve had enough. 

I can’t cope with this void I feel, the hole you have drilled in to my very heart. 

One of these days, I might actually go home with one of your friends, what will you do then?