The end of a friendship

I sat in the kitchen of the flat mother had left me,
trying to write a poem, when heard my former friend
coming up the stairs, I had locked the kitchen door
didn´t want them in or talk to them anymore.
They knocked on the door, let us in Joe, we know
you are in there, I didn´t answer.
When the knock stopped, they stood in the communal
hallway, cursing me, calling me **** and much more.
Once I had been one of them drifting through life
that has no purpose other than sitting in cafes drinking beer
wasting time with idle talk.
The kitchen was my den, my interest was writing.
I had lost my train of thoughts and switched on the TV,
It was in black and white, turned the sound off watched
people on a stage being funny and people laughing
with the sound off, it looked ridiculous.
I fell asleep but woke up early, in the Nord the night
is short in spring.
I made a cheese sandwich, drank coffee, grateful that  
I was not like my former friends.