The Song I Just Wrote II
It goes a little like this:

I didn't shave. I didn't bathe. I haven't washed these clothes in 23 days.
I didn't call you. I didn't eat. I don't look at the people walking down the street.
I didn't say, "Hi." I didn't wave. I didn't tell you that I love you, that I want to be your slave.
I do not miss you. I do not cry. Yet you're the reason why I can't sleep at night.

I've got a problem, and I think I know what it is.
(Heath's got a problem; it involves a relationship.)
I've got a problem. This is what it is:
Our relationship does not exist.

That's all I have right now. Worth finishing?