Black and grey tattoo of an eye with a teardrop inside a pearl-edged heart, framed by three roses and leaves, on a forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Eye in heart with roses on a forearm

Realism · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A large heart outlined in beads contains a detailed eye with a single teardrop below it, with three roses and leaves arranged around the heart. The linework is fine and the shading is soft, building realistic depth in the petals and the eye. The image is in black and grey and is centred on the forearm against a wooden floor.

Realism Botanical Forearm Heart Eye Teardrop Rose Pearl Leaves

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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 function room above the Crown smelled of carpet shampoo and warm prosecco, and Dawn Ackroyd had already cornered me beside the sausage rolls. She looked exactly as she had at fifteen, only with reading glasses pushed up into her hair like a second pair of eyes. 'You still have it?' she said. Not hello. Thirty years and she went straight for the exercise book.

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It was the orange Maths one, with a drawing on the back cover in biro: a heart strung with beads, an eye sitting inside it like a sweet in a tin, one fat tear below the lashes. Dawn drew it the summer we were both sent out of Mr Pell's class for passing notes about who had snogged whom at the bus shelter. She said a proper lady only cries once a year, and she was saving hers for us. 'It's in the car,' I said. 'I never opened it again after the Kirkby business.' She gave a short hard laugh. 'Open it now.'

Inside, the margins were full. Who had told, who had borrowed a pound and never paid it back, who had walked home with Gary Sellers and lied about it. Dawn's handwriting was neat as a stitch, mine sloped and furious. I had kept every grudge like a receipt. On the last page, in pencil and not in either of our hands, someone had written: we were never going to be the ones who got away. I did not remember that line, and I could not say who had written it.

Dawn tapped the page with one manicured nail. 'That was you,' she said. 'You were always the one with the tear.' Somewhere below us a DJ tested the microphone, and the whole room flinched at the squeal.