The Dolls

When I was little I would see

faint blotches near my friend's face,

moving,

smiling,

breathing.

The smiling blotches became little friends

as they smiled and waved back at me.

The kids in school never knew what to do,

always scared to talk to me,

since I would tell them about the dolls I see.

They could not see them,

which was quite odd,

but I saw them clearly.

I called them dolls

since they resembled mine at home;

mine would have the smiles the ones by the faces would.

Mine,

in my fantasies,

would talk

and play

just like the dolls would.

My mom will say that they will go away soon.

I do not want them to go away.

They're dolls

what else can they do but float?