Fine line black script reading Forever in my heart with a small heart motif on the side of a torso, ribs placement.

Forever in my heart script on ribs

Fine line · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A fine line script tattoo reads Forever in my heart across the side of a torso, with a small heart shape at the end of the phrase. The linework is thin and even, in solid black ink with no shading. The photo is taken outdoors with a black patterned bikini top and a chain-link fence in the background.

Fine line Lettering Ribs Script Word Heart Forever

Find an artist for this

Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The third time the ink bled into the hairline I put the brush down and swore at the card, which is not how you treat a wedding order, and Mr Halloran said so from the bench without looking up. He was right. The card was cream and heavy, the kind that cost more than my bus fare, and it had to say what a man called Walter Pryce had scribbled on the back of a parking ticket in biro, shaky, in the car park of the registry office.

Keep reading

Walter wanted it lettered exactly as he'd written it: Forever in my heart. He'd drawn a little heart at the end, a loop with a tail, and he wanted that too. 'Like a key,' he said, tapping the ticket. 'Just a bit of a key, so she knows where to look.' I asked who she was and he told me anyway. His daughter was getting married on the Saturday, and his wife, who had taught her to read, had died the winter before. The daughter had asked him to say something for the table, and he had nothing but the ticket.

I worked the nib slow, letting the line run thin and even, with nothing to hide behind. Halloran came over with his glasses pushed up on his forehead and watched the tail of the heart curl under the last letter. 'Good,' he said, which from him was a medal. I sealed the card in a sleeve and wrote the date on the back in pencil, the way I'd been taught, so nobody could ever say what day it was made.

At the reception Walter didn't read it out. He held the card up to the window, found the little heart, and pressed his thumb on it the way you'd check paint was dry. Then he slid it into his breast pocket, over the place he kept his reading glasses, and went back to his daughter's table without a word. I still don't know if he ever showed her. I like to think he kept the key for himself.