Poetry Of Lies

It must have been December
It surely was not June
The one thing I remember
Is a photograph of you
You stood out in a the snowfall
A handsome man
You turned around when she called
A camera in her hand
I did not come 'round often
I came around when I could
I guess I had forgotten
I had promised to be good
You shouldn’t have gotten busted
You should have gotten off
I was the one you trusted
To wipe the lipstick off
It must have been December
Surely not July
The one thing I remember
Is the poetry of lies