MY NEW COLOGNE (Bella Lincoln)

I bought some new cologne 

Some boujie chique cologne

It’s not that cheap cologne

That sexy creep cologne

That lather your tits and perfume your shits cologne

It’s that fancy stuff, that silver-spoon stuff

That rose-flavored, prose-flavored nightmare stuff

It’s those empty sheets on Summer streets

Call again soon and then back on your feet

You can cut yourself shaving but don’t leave a mark

Date in the park

Monday morning still on a high 

And all night long to the sounds of the sky 

Precum, reruns tormenting your skull

Don’t tell her she’s broken, don’t shatter the spell

It’s that fine cologne 

There’s no time cologne

Whiskey, tequilla and brine cologne

Blood on your clothes 

Concealed but exposed

Cashmere-trench-coat-sleeve-flavored stuff 

Unwanted attention is never enough

It’s that broken cologne

Never open cologne 

Numb to the scent as you try to atone 

It’s that hammer-and-saw

That tea-on-the-floor

Rice-cake-and-cheese-when-you’re-back-home-at-four-on-a-hot-Summer-night-in-the-rain-flavored stuff

Love-drunk-and-horny-for-pain-flavored stuff

It’s that neon light at the end of the night

Spray it on thick and then set it alight

It’s that hypocritical, neurotypical

Manicure-pedicure-parlor cologne

It’s dirty now you’re it’s captive

And without it you’re unattractive

You’re washing away and you’re staying afloat

Scrubbing dry skin as you claw at your throat

As you start to pour the unwanted cologne

Skin scrubbed raw, this discarded cologne

It’s that one-at-a-time 


It’s that don’t-disappear

It’s that baby-don’t-go

It’s that maybe-next-month




Trivia, the music-hall

The sentimental dream

Pour out half the bottle now and listen to them scream:

Who did this, what are you, this monster, this beauty, this hot fucking mess 

Blowdry your hairdye and drown in your dress 

Drown until morning and all the way home

We’re drowning together in my new cologne

It’s that “why-won’t-you-fuck-me” forgotten cologne 

Drink it all down, it’s that rotten cologne

And stare at the stars

But don’t look at the scars

Spray them and soak them in my new cologne.  


Bella Lincoln is a twenty-six-year-old trans-femme student of English Literature with an interest in poetry, theater and the classics. She is also a tremendous fan of film and podcasts and is currently navigating the world of gender and what it means to be trans. She does not claim to understand the experiences of everyone around her, but she is a fierce advocate for empathy and creative expression. Her intention as a writer is to explore issues of identity, friendship and mental health with a focus on gender and celebrating life. 


image: MM Kaufman