I humbly appreciate the overwhelming response to the poetry of Xenization. I offer this more straightforward piece in the hopes of equal entertainment.

Redamancy

You're a mountain

That I'd like to climb,

Not to conquer

But to share in the view

**Black Heart Inertia by Incubus

~*~*~

In space, day and night are as rumors. With no sun to herald the coming of morning, I find it easy to ignore what the bedside screen dictates. An extended break saw me cheating at cards and wringing subtle expressions from my companion. And hours were spent in personal exploration that began in one room and tripped into another. But now a long shift fast approaches to drag me from this comfort and knowing that I'm the only communications specialist aboard persuades me to go along. And always at a crawl.

Maintaining separate quarters continues the shaky pretense that a mildly visible romance is not occurring, though I'm told that the crew has apparently crafted a drinking game from our occasional signs to the contrary. Neither of our rooms is entirely abandoned; his mediation and my reading favor seclusion. In the hours designated as night we occupy only one. While we both appreciate solitude, our activities apart are no match for those undertaken together. Though my presence fails to ward off the disturbing visions in his head, waking finds him drinking from the calm well of my embrace. It's the only time he might be accused of clinging. In the first year after his home's destruction, he wouldn't speak of the dreams. But while time has loosened his tongue, my dreams remain my own.

They are a different beast; a duller set of claws but an equal bite. Because I envision our nameless children tugging genuine smiles from lips I've never known to take such formation. And those lips speak poetic adoration without shame. My younger self had planned weddings around the concept of a groom who'd shower me with love for the world to see. I'd certainly never anticipated that I'd need to prove to outsiders that my intended is able to care for me. The man in my recent dreams who wears a Vulcan face was a welcome stranger and initially I mourned the loss of sweetness to gnawing reality. Yet as our bond grew, I began to wish for none but the one laying beside me. Even now, as I trace the closest ear, following the mountain's rise to the fleshy peak, I know we are no fairy tale. We are better.

Despite his ingrained dislike for the word 'feelings,' I know he feels it too, the perfection of this unspoken commitment. The thought that I'm the first to truly see him passes within my mind, leaving a residue of sadness cleared only by his words last night; I carry the qualities of his mother. Of course, he was perplexed by the tears that produced. That I don't attempt to change the nature that seeks oppression of feelings has set me apart from the beginning. Gratitude for my acceptance of this suppressive package warms eyes that, surrounded by an impassive face, the only clue of the depth of strangled emotions.

It requires monumental tongue-biting but I've given up one of my most natural expressions. I no longer tell him that I love him. Through a careful study of humans, he understands that we expect the sort of mirrored reciprocation that makes him uncomfortable. Besides, he is incapable of forgetting so repetition is unnecessary. Whatever assurances he may need are answered in my touch.

Flowery proclamations are lost on the man; promising that I will always be with him earns me a discourse on death's tendency toward separation while declaring that I was made for him raises the upswept eyebrow further than one should safely go. Admittedly, I test those waters on occasion because eliciting reactions is part of the charm of our relationship. His opinions on human routine and ritual are nothing short of amusing and I've never heard anyone so effortlessly create a thesis-worthy argument seconds before speaking it. Securing the more physical responses, unraveling him through sensation, is a victory that rewards me well.

Above these, knowing I have his trust is as validating as a climber arriving at the pinnacle and finding God waiting. That he would recognize his own worth beyond inherited pride is high on my prayer list. But he's here, limbs as connected as souls and I will never weary of this journey.

Because the view from the top is practically holy.