Black flowing script lettering reading I am my beloved's, and my beloved is Mine with looping flourishes on a white background, shown as a tattoo design.

Script lettering quote in black ink

Lettering · Black and grey · Flash

The design sets the words I am my beloved's, and my beloved is Mine across two lines in a flowing, copperplate-style script. The strokes are fine and even, with long looping flourishes on the capitals and descenders. It is rendered in solid black on a plain white background, with no shading or colour.

Lettering Script Lettering Quote Flourish Word

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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 umbrellas were sorted by eleven, hung on their brass hooks like a row of tired crows, and I still had the tin box open on my knee when the 4:10 ran through without stopping. Lost property at Hollin Cross is a room of other people's leftovers. Mostly it is gloves. Occasionally it is a bundle of letters, which is what I had found wedged behind a seat cushion in the spring, tied with green garden string and never claimed.

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They were written in a careful copperplate, the loops of the capitals leaning into one another like commuters at a bus stop, and they were all from a man called Thomas Ashdown to a Margaret Lund in Settle. Forty-one of them. Every letter closed on the same line from the Song of Songs, with a flourish that ran off the edge of the paper, and he had underlined the second half twice, as if someone had once argued with him about it. I read them on my lunch break for a fortnight, which is not allowed, and by the end I knew how he took his tea and that his knee gave out on wet platforms.

On the Friday I took the last envelope to Settle on the bus. Margaret Lund was alive, just, in a bungalow that looked onto a car park, and she held the envelope a long time before she said she had written to him too. Her letters had never been posted. She had kept each one in a biscuit tin, dated and folded, and she handed the tin to me as if I had been expecting it.

I came back on the 4:10 with two tins on my knee instead of one. At Hollin Cross I left them on the bench under the clock, the green string tied in a double knot, the way he had tied his. Somebody would find them by morning. That is what the station is for.