Who could understand unbearable loneliness?

Flash Fiction and Imagist Poem combined created this on one melancholic evening in March of 2024.

“Never,” cried I.
“Quiet,” hushed he.
He being my beau.
It was not an ending.
Oh, but it certainly was.
And here I were, dying.
Dying from what?
Unbearable loneliness my dear.