“How long have you known how blind I was?” she asked in a melancholy manner. Her voice was deeper than usual and her tone was strong.
“What? Blind, what are you talking about?” he asked.
“In business,” she continued philosophically. “I am as sharp as a tack. Nothing passes my view. I can spot a loophole or a contact a million miles away. But at home I am a spoiled, bourgeois princess that listens to her old, tired mother and her friends who are not friends at all.” Malik sat quietly. He had no idea what she was rambling about, but decided to put whatever pieces together he could through her loose transmissions. “Do you know; I have more trust in your friends of whom I’ve only known for a week or so, than I have in all of my own?” Malik nodded, showing Monica that he was listening. “Come to think about it, Taeysha was my only close friend.” Tears began to fall from her face. The mere mention of the woman’s name brought pain to Monica. Malik decided it was time to intervene. He walked over to her and knelt. With the backside of his hand, he gently removed her tears. “Why did she do this to me Mal?” she asked, pleading. “What did I do to her?” His face was so warm that she felt ashamed to look at it. She reached out to him and he held her closely to his body. Monica was miserable and needed someone who she could trust. Maybe that’s why she called Malik in the first place. He had never lied to her about anything. There weren’t many people in her life that could say the same thing. The tears came harder as she held him. Her hands moved softly across his back and his hands reciprocated in a calming manner. He pulled away slightly to look at her. Monica, without thinking, extended to Malik and kissed him tenderly. He was shocked but did not move away. The kiss was so endearing, so soft, and so warm that he did not know what to do. She kissed him again, this time it was deeper and she stroked his neck. He slid his hands up and down her back and returned her kiss. Abruptly, he pulled away from Monica and stood up. He walked over to a chair and sat down rubbing his scalp.
“Oh, man… what are we doing Monica?” Monica propped herself up. Her feelings were still so intense. She realized that a boundary was crossed, but she didn’t care. She was in pain. She wanted her man back.
“Tell me,” she began. “Tell me when you kissed me that you didn’t feel anything Malik.” He sat quietly, thinking of a way to get out of that situation. He knew he had to do it quickly, or…

www.anthologyfmn.com

Enter the Written World of Fahim Malik Nassar

The House of Caine (available)

Melancholoy Funk (available)

Tha Anthology (Words 2001-2003) Poetry inspired by OKP and Wash, DC
(available)

The Spook who sat by the Radio Poetry (av