Embrace the days with your eyes of silence

 She doesn't break the night. The dust of the trees covers it. Nocturnal screen from the sun. Embrace the days with your eyes of silence. Swallow-night. Dumb-wait. While the trembling of the cells is having fun. Trembling of waiting. He never looks. Nor does the wait tremble. Nor is it obstinate. Nor does anything but hope hurt while you signal, wait. Next time, challenging. Now hope is confessed. Street taste. Couples of closed doors, face to face. Doors exposed to the street. They turn their backs on the houses. Napes of doors.

Sense, then ex-isto as hypo/thesis.