This is not the kind of heartache that anyone could heal; if it were capable of disappearing once, it would have disappeared a thousand times over.

Here, the poet speaks of an ache so deep and timeless that no physician or remedy could ever touch it. He gently laments that if this sorrow were capable of easing even once, it would have vanished a thousand times over by now, but it refuses to let go. Unlike physical wounds that heal, this tender ache of love becomes an inseparable, permanent companion to the soul.