If love is the center of Sonnet 137’s thematic universe, lies and deceit are pretty much everything orbiting around it. Switching metaphors, you could say that this poem operates like a set of Russian dolls, with each (or practically each) layer of deception that gets stripped away revealing another layer of deception hidden beneath it. The speaker manages to make lots of accusations of deception in these short fourteen lines. He blames the god of Love, his own eyes and heart, and himself before finally launching an attack straight at the source of all his heartache—his two-timing mistress. He may be insane with heartache, but the dude gets marks for being thorough and efficient!
The poem makes it seem as if the woman has not deceived the speaker. Instead, it looks like the speaker has been deceived (by Love, and by his own eyes and heart) about the woman. Oof. That's a tough pill to swallow.
The poem does not give us enough evidence to say conclusively that the woman in question has, or has not, deceived the speaker. The speaker is too wrapped up in himself to give us any meaningful context. Thanks a lot, ya big jerk.