A Smile of Stars

She had the stars in her teeth. It was like they were harvested from our universe and melded into her smile. And few had fallen onto her hair, into her blinking, startling eyes, and one to many in her laugh. But they were so evident in her smile.

People never really said her smile lit up the room, she was a reserved girl. But when she laughed unconfined at a joke or gushed over her ideas for the future with me, it was just that much brighter. Like sparks and fireflys and neon drive by signs. Like the center of a burning candle and the dying comet we saw that humid night on her roof right before she kissed me. Yes, it was beautiful and gorgeous and pretty, but that wasn't the way to describe it. Her smile was illegally otherwordly. It was like the stars.

(I tried going for more intense metaphors, something more heavy, any thoughts or advice y'all?)