Fine line black heartbeat tattoo with a small loop-shaped heart on the inner wrist of a hand with blue nail polish.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Heartbeat line tattoo on the inner wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a hand held up to show the inner wrist, where a thin black heartbeat trace runs across the skin. The trace starts with a small looped heart outline on the left and rises into several sharp peaks before ending in a short tail. The ink is a single dark tone on a light background, and the blurred backdrop keeps the focus on the tattoo.

Fine line Forearm Heartbeat Heart Ecg line

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

Old Morag always said the sea keeps a record of every heart that beats near it, and that the lighthouse keeper's wife had taught her to read the lines. Come closer, the lamp is lit and the kettle's on. You want to know about the boat that came in on the Tuesday after the great storm, the one with no name painted on her bow, only a small looped mark where the paint had flaked away.

Keep reading

The man at the tiller was Ewan Dunnet, a fisherman from Scarp who had gone out for one last run before his daughter's wedding. The sea had taken his engine and most of his nerve. He lay in the bottom of the boat with his hand pressed to his wrist, counting, because the woman who kept the signal station on the headland had told him once that a pulse was a kind of weather you could read. Every time the swell lifted him, he felt it jump, sharp as the needle on the old machine in the station, then settle, then jump again.

So he hauled himself up, and he watched the headland light and he counted the peaks like a man counting the lamps on a long road home. When the bow finally grated on the slipway, Morag's mother ran down with a blanket, and Ewan could only grip her sleeve and point at the pale line on his skin, as if the sea had drawn it there to show them where he had been.

He lived to walk his daughter down the aisle. And every spring he still tapped that little line, the loop and the tall spikes and the thin tail trailing off, and said that the sea had finally written him a letter he could read.