Ankit Kumar Exclusive on Dear Lunar, It Fades Away
Some books are written to entertain. Others to inform. But Dear Lunar, It Fades Away wasn’t written—it was bled onto the page.
There are moments in life when words fail us. When the heaviness of what we feel—love, loss, pain, hope—becomes too much to carry, let alone explain. It’s in those moments that we turn to art, to poetry, to something that speaks the language of the soul when our own voices falter.
This collection isn’t polished or perfect, and it doesn’t try to be. It’s messy, like life. It’s vulnerable, like love. It’s painful, like loss. And yet, it’s also tender, like healing.
It’s the sound of a heart breaking in slow motion, the resonance of love that remains long after it’s gone, the silent sob of someone learning to let go. It is the voice of someone who, lost in the maze of pain, found poetry as the only way out.
The author, when asked what led to this book, simply says: “I was so deep in pain that I couldn't find a way out other than poetry. So I bled through poetry.”
And that’s exactly what Dear Lunar, It Fades Away feels like: a wound laid bare, a heart spilled open, a soul searching for light in the dark. The kind of book that doesn’t just sit on your shelf but presses itself against your own bruises, reminding you that you’re not alone.
That the hurt you carry has been carried before, and will be carried again. That pain is universal, but so is healing.
The Weight of Love, The Ghost of Loss
Love. Loss. Pain. Healing.
These words are thrown around so carelessly, reduced to hashtags and captions, but in this book, they reclaim their true meaning. The author doesn’t romanticize them—doesn’t dress them up in metaphors so pretty that they lose their sting. Instead, they strip them bare.
When asked about the rawest emotion displayed in the book, the author responds: “Vulnerability, deep pain, and frustration.”
It’s in the verses, in the silences between them, in the confessions that make you want to put the book down just to breathe for a second.
The pain is not just spoken—it is felt. And yet, so is the hope.
Because while this book is about heartbreak, it is also about survival. About self-discovery. About how even in the darkest night, there is always the moon.
The Moon Knows Everything
The title, Dear Lunar, It Fades Away, holds a story within itself. The phrase wasn’t chosen at random—it was borrowed from someone the author once fel connected deeply to.
“The moon knows everything,” the author says. “And yet, it remains a mystery.”
The moon, a constant yet mysterious presence, becomes a metaphor for the emotions we carry—those that are seen and those that remain hidden. “It reminds me of her,” the author shares, “and the moon that knows everything and yet remains a mystery.”
And perhaps that is what this book is—an open wound and a mystery. A letter to love, to loss, to the past, to the self. A whisper to the moon, which has seen it all but will never tell a soul.
Scars That Are Real
Every poem in this book is personal. Every verse has its own significance. Some will cut deeper than others, depending on what the reader carries in their own heart.
One of the verses reads:
Because the worst wounds are often the ones no one else can see. The ones left behind by love, by memories, by the things we didn’t say when we should have, or the things we said when we shouldn’t have.
The scars that, long after the pain fades, still remain.
Love, Loss, and the Internet
When asked to define love, the author admits: “My understanding of love is null other than what I know from the internet.” And isn’t that the most brutally honest answer one can give?
Love, after all, is something we think we understand until we truly feel it—or lose it.
And loss? It is the absence of something that was once there. A void that no words can fill, though poetry tries. This book tries.
A Book That Holds You
What makes Dear Lunar, It Fades Away so profoundly moving is its honesty. The author doesn’t shy away from the rawest forms of emotion—vulnerability, deep pain, frustration.
They don’t offer easy answers or clichéd comforts. Instead, they invite readers to sit with their own emotions, to feel them fully, and to know that they are not alone in their struggles.
Dear Lunar, It Fades Away is not just a book to be read—it is a book to be felt. To be held in shaking hands. To be returned to on nights when the weight of memory is too much to bear alone. To be underlined, dog-eared, and carried like a quiet companion through the seasons of pain and healing.
When asked what they hope readers will feel, the author replies:
“Experiences are mostly universal—either deep pain or love, one way or another. While hope and self-discovery is the root to life.”
Dear Lunar, It Fades Away is more than a book; it’s an experience. It’s a journey through the highs and lows of human emotion, a reminder that pain and healing are two sides of the same coin.
And that is what this book leaves you with—not just sorrow, but hope. Not just endings, but the possibility of new beginnings.
Not just pain, but the understanding that even pain is proof of life.
For those who have loved, lost, and learned to live again—this book is for you.
For the nights that feel too heavy.
For the wounds that refuse to heal.
For the ones who are still searching for their own way out of the dark.
The moon knows. And so do you.
And maybe, just maybe, this book will help you remember.
Dear Lunar, It Fades Away is available now. Let it remind you of the beauty in the broken, the strength in the scars, and the light that always finds its way through the dark.
Dear Lunar, It Fades Away is available for direct order on Amazon.
Get your copy here, before love and hope fades away: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DRTL72K9
Find a piece of yourself in these pages. Read it when you need to feel understood. 🌙✨
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