The dead are forgotten
Not completely, just partially
We forget all the little things
Like how they ****** us off
Or how they broke our hearts
Or how they made us hate them at times
We only remember how perfect they were
We only remember the good
So we can feel guilty for not seeing them every day
Or not giving them one last hug
Because some reason when you're dead, it makes you deserving
Of love or of sympathy
Because no one wants to hear you say you hate a dead person
Because that's just cruel.