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There's something stuck in my chest without a name,
light dips lightly on its frame, licks lower
until the aftertaste translates into something
without a number, yet I am, but a number,
on the 14th of February, the thousandth heart
that's barcoded, sealed, off for shipping
like an exotic flower in an exotic country, 66.6%
discount when it's travelled around the world.

Written for Colm's 7-day challenge, day 5. Didn't submit this one to the contest.

Re-used the line "there's something stuck in my chest without a name" from the poem "Winter at 5.28 PM".