the one on the index finger

There are only a few of you in the world. I can count them on one hand, minus the thumb and the pinky. So three. Three of you. But you are the one I count with my index finger. The first one. Number one. You think there are all sorts of things about you that make you less, but I see past those things and because of that, you are more. More than all the rest. I never tell you that though. I'm afraid to say it out loud. Afraid you might hear me and be out of my life completely. I know this is selfish. I know.