This existence is but a fact and nothing more

The elation fades when realization makes its appearance, melting away what once existed, despite its adulterated existence.

She'll turn to the pages, hoping for something that could have been said.  But there is not comfort between the lines.  The black and white only makes gray.

Washing up like a sea tide, rinsing and leaving foamy residue.

She cannot turn away.

She wishes to run away.