Two matching forearm tattoos show interlocked wedding rings above the lettering What God Has joined Together and Let no man Separate Matt 19:6.

Matching wedding ring tattoos with scripture

Lettering · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

Two arms are shown side by side in close-up, each with a matching tattoo of two interlocked wedding rings with a scripture line above them. The rings are shaded in grey and black, with one ring carrying an orange-red tint, and the lettering is a plain black script. The warm lighting gives the skin an orange cast, and the tattoos are centred on each inner forearm.

Lettering Forearm Ring Scripture Bible verse Matching tattoo Lettering

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The rings arrived at Edwin Pask's bench on a wet Tuesday in February, wrapped in a tissue that had gone soft as porridge. Somebody had tried to mend them at a kitchen table with a blowtorch and a prayer, and the solder had run into a grey lump where the two bands met. Edwin held them under the lamp and saw the thin orange line of enamel that had cracked along one shoulder. It was the kind of job that would take twenty minutes if he was willing to lose a little gold, and he had never once been willing.

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The note folded inside the tissue was in biro, in careful capitals: PLEASE DON'T CUT THEM. MUM SAID WHAT GOD HAS JOINED. Edwin read it twice, then put it in the drawer with the others, because people wrote notes like that all the time and he never knew whether they wanted sentiment or a second opinion. Outside, the snow had shut the Holmfirth road, and the only sounds in the shop were the clock and the tick of the little heater.

He worked until the clock said past one. He did not cut the rings. He warmed the lump with a small flame, slow as a sunrise, until the solder softened and he could work a fine blade into the seam. The first band came free with a tiny click. Inside the second, where nobody would ever look, he found two sets of initials and a date engraved in neat script, and beneath them a row of stamped crosses that had been filed off on one side, as if someone had changed their mind.

The rings had never been joined at all. They had been stuck together by accident and a little heat, and the verse on the note had been doing all the work. Edwin laid them side by side on the velvet tray, two plain bands with a faint shadow where they had touched. He wrote the ticket in pencil: separated, both intact, returned to owner. Then he switched off the lamp and sat for a while in the dark, listening to the snow.