Ant Smith
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The way to a man's heart

The way to a man's heart is through his veins
Vanity and ego courses through the blood
Skin and bone may bear the wickedest pains
But it's capillaries that contain his love

The way to a man's heart is through his eyes
Bigger in his head than on the outside
Tongue twisters treasonably tell true lies
It's optical sockets that hold what he hides

The way to a man's heart is through his chest
With boot stamp or brickbat or bloody knife edge
Calcified cages can conceal sense of dread
The man is alive, who dares bare his breast


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