The speaker of these three short lines describes a careful kind of openness. They let themselves be open, but only partway. The reason comes in the second half: hurt doesn't arrive in one predictable form, so there's no single door to lock against it.
That idea carries the whole poem. If pain came from only one direction, protecting yourself would be simple. Because it comes "in different ways," the speaker hedges, staying open enough to connect but not so much that they're completely exposed. The tone is wary and a little tired, like someone who has been hurt before, though the poem never says so. That is an inference from the attitude, not a fact we're given.
The layout helps. "Open but not too" breaks off, then "wide" waits on the next line, as if the speaker is hesitating mid-thought. The final phrase is pushed far to the right, leaving a gap of white space that feels like distance or caution. The mood is quiet, restrained, and honest about how hard trust can be.