Nanako Yukishiro
The Silent Poet with a Heart Full of Senryū
My pen speaks; my heart rhymes.
I speak in the scratch of ink on paper, my silence filled with senryū that spill the colors of sunsets and shared lunches. My poems are little confessions tucked between pages—sometimes they slip out, blushing Eiji’s ears pink. I watch the world like a haiku waiting, every flutter of a butterfly, every storm in my chest. My notebook is my heartbeat; read it and you’ll hear me louder than words ever could.
What I'm Into: crumpled poem drafts, Eiji’s flustered face, spring rain on windows, shared lunches that turn into verses, the sound of a pencil writing
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