Footsteps echo
Steel crackles under a sweaty palm
The door swings open and bells tremble
A shadow is cast in the shape of an hourglass
Clocks tick by the seconds
Just out of synch with his pulse
The air is thick and musty
Sweat trickles down his brow
He can feel the air and hear the dust
Looking around, a scale winks at him
He steps over to it
Unzipping his jacket as he does so
His right hand disappears
Only to emerge with a heart
One that is in perfect shape
Yet its color is decay
The shadow is now gone
The man sets the organ in the tray
And the scale does not budge
The man musters a smile
For he now knows the price of love
LITTLE TALKS 
Oh very well done. Beautiful phrasing, imagery and foreshadowing to a brilliant denouement. Fantastic. Thank you.
No, thank you!