Made me think about the movie I saw, French, I think, of a young couple on their honeymoon in the south of France where she pricked her finger on a rose and started bleeding. Having the disease where one bleeds and the blood is not clot (hemophilia?) They returned to Paris, I remember, where she died. Very sad, like your poem.
What a contrast! Raindrops and teardrops do indeed suggest purity and toxicity, Your poem teaches with simplicity and elegance, and those two qualities equal beauty. This is one of the best renderings I have read in quite a while. Bravo!
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Ron